


Art of Deception

by beth9891



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Frottage, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beth9891/pseuds/beth9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore is not as light has everyone thinks. He is a master manipulator unfortunately for him his plans go astray when the Dursely's don't do what he wants and keep Harry. Harry learns and becomes something the wizarding world least expects. Turning to pickpocketing to survive. With the help of an surprising alley the wizarding world will never be the same. SLASH harry/oc</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note: harry potter and harry potter characters do not belong to me...sigh (if they did ginny would have been eaten by a large spider). Oc characters are mine, feel free to borrow. Quotes are not mine. 
> 
> Warning: this is a SLASH story aka m/m relationships. don't like don't read. 
> 
> This was my first story in this fandom. I would love to get your feedback! hope you enjoy!

** Art of deception **

_People trust their eyes above all else - but most people see what they wish to see, or what they believe they should see; not what is really there” ―_ [ _Zoë Marriott_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1025280.Zo_Marriott) _,_ [ _Shadows on the Moon_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/14341418)

** Prologue: **

The age old wizard walked swiftly down the silent impeccably kept neighborhood, humming happily to himself. Yes, he was happy. And why shouldn’t he be? Everything had gone just as he had planned.

Oh, he knew what many thought. They thought he was a doddering old fool; it really didn’t bother him in the least, after all he was the one who had cultivated and nurtured this façade. There were very few who truly recognized who he was, even fewer who understood the implications. He was not a harmless kind grandfatherly figure. No, he was too clever for that, he was perhaps the best deceiver of them all. He was a snake in its truest form. The true spinner of lies and manipulations, the silly muggles had one thing right in their ridiculous storybook beliefs. It was the snake that brought down humanity.

He slowed his pace as he approached the now sleep silenced house in Privet drive, by day it was anything but silent what with that horridly spoiled baby screaming at all hours, or the whale man stomping and verbally spewing whatever ridicules thought he managed to form in his fat filled head. Not to mention the horsey screech of the women who had some strange fascination of peering furtively out the window, then ducking hurriedly whenever someone happened to look her way. Yes there was no denying, muggles were strange creatures.

Albus sighed with ill veiled annoyance. Where was that olf? He had things to do; after all it wasn’t every day that he arrived at victory over the ‘evilest’ wizard to ever exist. Ok, so it wasn’t exactly HIS victory and sure he had exaggerated Voldmort’s deeds but still who was to dispute with him now? The ACTUAL slayer was dead (along with the only speaking witness), the new savior could definitely not give his story, and the enemy was gone, poof, dust, no more. Which is just how Albus wanted it. He would be lauded the light sided hero and leader, and better yet thanks to his careful manipulations, he would be directly in charge of the new light sided savior. Yes, today was a good day.

His gleeful thoughts were interrupted by the loud rumbling of a fast approaching vehicle, a flying motor cycle to be accurate. The olf (aka Hagrid) came crashing into the silent driveway of house number 4.

“Evenin professor” Hagrid grunted swinging one of humongous legs over said bike.

“Hagrid! All went well?” Albus enquired carefully schooling his face in to a warm, pensive expression being sure to amp up the twinkle in his eyes.

“Sniff, sniff….yea poor lil thing, all alone now….I jus can’t believe their gone, lily and James left lil harry all on his own” Hagrid choked out, snot and tears streaming down his face into his wiry beard.

“Now, now Hagrid. The loss of the Potters is indeed tragic, but I believe they would have gladly made this sacrifice given the chance to rid the world of evil. And little Harry is not all alone, he will grow up with his mother’s sister. With family, loved. It is for the best” Albus chided gently. All the while mentally chuckling. Oh no, he wasn’t stupid he knew very well what kind of people the Dursley’s were. No, little Harry no doubt would not have the easiest life, but that was part of the plan. It was for the best. Let the child grow up with little, it would only make him that much more perceptible to Albus’s influences later on. Albus had another chance, this time he would succeed. There would not be another Tom.

“Sniff,…of course professor, of course. Heres lil Harry here. Slept the whole way. Good lil bloke.” Hagrid dabbed his face with a mungy handkerchief before reaching into the sidecar and handing a covered basket to Albus gingerly.

“Ah, excellent Hagrid. Well done. I knew I could trust you, Lily and James would be proud” he told the giant scoffing to himself how easy it was to manipulate the half giant. A kind word and pat on the head and he would do as he was told. No questions asked. “Now why don’t you go back and deliver the news to the others, it is a night for celebration after all” Albus suggested gently prodding the giant to leave him be. He after all only had so much patience.

“Thanks Professor, Il be doing that, bya harry” Hagrid said giving the basket a not so gentle pat, nearly knocking it from Albus’s grasps. He then turned and mounted the bike. “latta professor” and the roar of the retreating bike once again disturbed the silence of the night.

Albus let out a huff of relief as the bike became a speck in the distance. Finally. He moved the fluffy red blanket back to uncover a mess of black locks. The boy of the hour slept soundly, pale skin, messy black hair, perfectly ordinary…well except for the angry red lightening shaped scar just visible on his forehead. Well, time for next part of the plan. He re-covered the sleeping infant, fished out the letter he had written last week and slipped it into the basket.

He did not have the time to actually speak with these stupid muggles, no that would give them a chance to refuse to take the infant and that would mess everything up, no much better to just leave the basket to be found. Setting the basket on the doorstep he spun and began his quick pace up the street again. No point on dissappartaing and altering the Minstery that there was magic performed nearby, he would hate for them to discover where he left the child. Happy that everything was going as he had plotted Albus did not pause to think that this plan just might backfire.

That would be his biggest mistake.

Indeed Albus’s plans did start to fall apart. They started to fall apart the very next morning in fact, at the exact moment Petunia Dursley peered out her front door in search of the morning gossip rag…erm news paper(she was a well read modern woman after all, she did NOT read gossip rags, no this was news!). A ear splitting shriek later, followed by the thundering roar of her husband and cacophony of a upset crying Dudley she swooped down and grabbed the basket and the unfortunate child inside.

A loud rather destructive (if the Sears vase that was shattered was of any indication) argument later, it was decided that they would get rid of this cretin. They after all felt zero responsibility to this freak. She had decisively removed herself from her sister’s world and personage and did not appreciate having this child dumped on her perfectly normal family. Vernon was of the opinion that they should just dump it in a river or on the side of the road somewhere, but has much as she hated her sister and all that entailed even she wasn’t THAT heartless. No, she didn’t want to be responsible for the death of the creature, she was a Christian after all.

That said she was smart enough not argue outright with her furious husband, not when he was in one of his MOODs. So she told him that she was taking IT across town and get rid of it. He approved, he didn’t want to be late for work after all.

Instead, Petunia carefully removed anything that would point to who the child was. There wasn’t any point in risking someone tracing IT back to them after all. His monogrammed blanket was switched with an old scraggly one that she unearthed from the rags she used for cleaning. She then drove, drove a good couple of hours until she reached her destination. Petunia parked several blocks away, carefully taking in her surroundings, once she was sure that there was no noisy observer (Really, being noisy was all well and fine when it was HER but anyone else…). Assured she was indeed alone on this downtrodden street, she quickly scurried up the dilapidated stone steps of St. Brutus’s orphanage and set the basket down.

She looked down at the peaceful infant, who peered up at her with those hated green eyes (She had always been jealous of Lily’s eyes, the vivid green that everyone ooed and awed over, while no one paid one spick of attention to her muddy brown ones), and pushed any last bits of guilt away. After all Lily was the one who had left her, not the other way around. She would NOT feel guilty about leaving the child with strangers. Really she was doing it a favor, Vernon was not a tolerant man. She slipped the paper that she had scribbled a name. The only thing she would give the child. Before she rapped sharply on the door and fled.

The old tired matron who would find the basket would be the first to greet the small boy with his new identity. That day Hadrian Alex Jameson was born.


	2. The art of survival

**Chapter one: The art of survival**

_“Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest.” ―_ [ _Carrie Ryan_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1443712.Carrie_Ryan) _,_ [ _The Dark and Hollow Places_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/11095144)

Hadrian stilled his whole being, essentially becoming one with the stone pillar he leaned against, as he let his unnaturally green eyes scan the now crowded court yard. Hadrian had been waiting just outside the National Gallery for a few hours now, waiting for the crowd to become thick enough that he could easily slip in and out without notice. While not as famous as Big Ben or London tower, the National Gallery attracted a wealthier crowd of tourists and this suited Hadrian’s purposes just fine.

After years of experience it did not take the petite boy long to select his mark, a rather obese, loud American couple who were as oblivious their surroundings as most Americans were. The whale of a man reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite decipher just who, either way his wallet was bulging in his fanny pack (or what he had heard other tourists call a money bag supposedly used to prevent thief, joke that).They would be an easy dupe.

When Hadrian had first chosen the Gallery as his hunting ground it had more to do with his fascination of the art inside the beautiful building, but over time that had become much less important to those that came to see the art. Hadrian was pretty sure even if he was not a very successful pickpocket he would have enjoyed himself simply with people watching. It was fascinating watching strangers interact and react when they took no notice of you. It was how he had learned to be as good at his deceptions as he was, no one told the truth after all. They all manipulated, lied or told shades of the truth to be sure they got what they wanted, whether that a new cheaper souvenir, going back to the hotel earlier or a good shag from the wife, whatever the reason every word was a lie of sorts. And Hadrian excelled at it.

He had to. It was essential to his survival; sure it had taken his formative years of beatings, starvation, and ‘punishments’ for being unnatural, a devil child according to Matron Madix to learn this, but he had learned and learned well.

Hadrian knew his own weaknesses but he also knew how to manipulate the most prominent of them into strengths. He knew physically others saw him as an easy target and why shouldn’t they? he was incredibly small for his age, thanks to years of malnourishment. He had been easily one of the smallest boys at the orphanage regardless of age, he of course placed the blame with his god forsaken parents, the same ones who had apparently decided he was not worthy of their home and had left him to rot all those years ago on the stone steps of St. Brutus’s Orphanage. However his small stature and thin body had its advantages, most people saw him as younger than his 9 years of age and therefore mentally dismissed him as a threat, a mistake of course. He might be small but he was wiry and quick often in and out before anyone even registered his presence.

His appearance could also be taken as a weakness, especially where he was. He knew he was a beautiful child. Messy ebony hair, pale porcelain skin, sharp aristocratic features only marred by a unique faded lightening shaped scar on his forehead, huge green eyes that literally glowed at times, small lithe body, yes he knew without the stares that he was attractive. However, being small and attractive in a place like St. Brutus’s was not a good thing. After one too many leering looks from the old creepy Maintenance man, Hadrian took steps to ensure his own well being. This took him back to what he was doing at the moment.

After the too close encounter with Mr. Fergson two years ago, Hadrian put his collected knowledge into action. He had come to realize that power was key to survival and power came from wealth, and wealth was money. He put his beauty, his brains and his quick sticky fingers to play and became one of the most successful pickpockets London streets would know. One might scoff and declare that a five year old could not possibly possess the knowledge and the skill to dupe adults many years his senior, but they would be wrong, Hadrian happened to be something of a prodigy in all he did. Likely had he grown up somewhere more nurturing he might not have been able to pull it off, but need circumvented what childhood he would have had.

As it was, Hadrian had run. It was likely purely chance he was still alive, after all London streets where not a place for children regardless of their genius. It was by luck that his artful lifting of a gold pocket watch from an elderly man had been witnessed by another ‘child’. Hadrian knew that Iztal Kurou had saved his life, something that Hadrian did not take lightly.

Iztal was only a year and a half Hadrian’s senior but he had been raised on the streets and understood much more then Hadrian did the skills need for survival on them. He had for reasons Hadrian still did not quite understand basically adopted the naïve five year old, becoming mentor, friend and family. Of course it wasn’t given entirely for free, no Hadrian had to contribute, and his skilled fingers had been the price for the older boy’s protection. Still a small price all said and done.

Hadrian pushed off his perch and ambled nonchalantlytowards the now arguing couple, being careful to move silently.

“Where the hell is the bus terminal, I told you this was stupid! How much walking do you expect from me Cathy?” the whale man demanded of his large companion, Cathy apparently.

“Would you quit? You’re the one that thought coming to see the stupid art place was a good idea, I wanted to visit my sister in Florida, but NOOOO you insisted Europe was a MUST see, it’s your own god damn fault that everyone walks bloody everywhere” Cathy argued rather loudly. As their argument escalated people began giving them a wider berth, not however before a teenager on a skate board nearly collided with the man causing him to drop several of the brochures and maps he had been clutching.

“God dammit, stupid ruffians! Watch where you’re going!!” He shouted after the retreating ‘Ruffian.’

Hadrian latched onto this opportunity quickly ducking to retrieve the map and handing it to the reddening man.

“Excuse me Sir, I believe this is yours?” He said politely, carefully schooling his expression into a wide eyed innocent one.

“Yes, thank you lad, at least not all youngsters are rude!” the man exclaimed, reaching over his girth to take the map from Hadrian. Hadrian used the awkward reach to quickly remove the wallet from his half zipped pouch.

“No problem at all sir, have a good day” Hadrian replied and quickly retreated with his loot. Dodging into the shade of a less crowded treed area he quickly removed the pounds from the wallet and tossed the now empty wallet behind a garbage receptacle. Not bad 65 pounds, definitely okay for one swipe. This had been his third trip this week and Hadrian knew better then to push his luck, it was time for a strategical retreat. Plus, it was getting on in the day and he knew Iztal would be impatient if he was much longer.

He closed his eyes and imagined the abandoned building he and Iztal had claimed as their own. It was located in one of the seedier neighborhoods of London, an old cannery that had been deemed ‘unsanitary’ by the city, vacated then essentially forgotten. A good thing for the boys. It was not the nicest of places but it was a roof, and even had a few pieces of moldy furniture, a saggy couch, a few chairs, a place for a small fire. When they had first moved in a year ago, there had been competition for the space but Iztal turned out to be a devil child as well, he was able to make things, impossible things happen as well. After a few demonstrations of these ‘things’, others left them be.

After carefully picturing their flat he willed himself to be there, and opening his eyes he was. It was one of those things. Hadrian had discovered that if he wanted something to happen bad enough often it did. He did not know why but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Your back” Iztal stated looking up from a book they had swiped earlier in the week. ‘ _Menicus_ ’ had turned out to be right in Iztal’s interest range. Concerning the philosophy of war and power it had been preoccupying the 11 year old for several days now. “Any luck?” he asked, unfolding his long body from its position on the sofa.

“Yeah, swiped a wallet from another pathetic tourist. Easy. 65 pounds. Called it a day, there were more coppers today than usual…thinking I might have to rotate to another site for a while” Hadrian replied tossing the notes on top of the plastic milk cart they used as a table.

“Sounds good” Iztal replied, shifting nervously. This caught Hadrian’s attention, Iztal was many things but the older boy was rarely nervous or uncomfortable around him, on the rare occasion he was it never boded well for Hadrian.

“What’s up? What’s wrong?” Hadrian asked worriedly studying the preteen. The other boy actually looked rather similar to Hadrian. He was taller, equally as thin which was a given with how they lived. He had black hair, not the dark ebony of Hadrian’s but it was straighter easier to keep tidy. Instead of green Iztal had ice blue eyes, eyes that were cold adding to his dismissive ,non-caring demeanor. He rarely showed emotion, Hadrian was pretty sure he was the only one who Iztal showed anything beyond disdain to. He didn’t mind, this in his mind just showed him that he mattered to the older boy.

“What? Nothing is wrong” Iztal answered shiftily not looking at Hadrian but rather staring decidedly at the concrete wall behind him.

“Iztal” Hadrian stated.

After a long silence, Iztal finally replied “Fine, something weird happened to me today”

Hadrian bit back his impulse to ask what, knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference. Iztal had to tell him when he wanted. Nothing would convince the boy otherwise. Thankfully it seemed that the boy had decided to share now rather than leaving Hadrian guessing.

“I got a letter.” Iztal replied. This in itself was weird, as neither of the boys knew anyone good that would send them a letter, much less how they sent a letter to a non-address was a question.

“Oh?” Hadrian prompted curiously.

“Yeah I got a letter, it was delivered by a bloody owl” Iztal answered his normally blank expression showing some of his surprise demonstrating just how shocked the boy was.

“An owl? As in the bird?” Hadrian stated somewhat in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s not all. The letter is an invite to a school….a school of magic” Iztal continued.

“!??!?!”

“I know, I thought it a prank or maybe one of the Jeremy’s crew stupid idea of a joke, but really would they go to the trouble to finding a bloody owl that would deliver the letter, and waste the expense of printing out a letter? Plus I’m pretty sure the idiots can’t read or write” Iztal stated taking out folded cream colored parchment. Hadrian could tell from the quality of the paper that Iztal was right. Jeremy’s crew of imbeciles wouldn’t know where to find parchment much less even attempt the elegant calligraphy on it.

“Magic” Hadrian stated not sure what else he could say.

“Yeah….I mean it kinda makes sense doesn’t it? I mean what we can do….you know no one else we have met can do what we can, I knew we were better than all them, I knew we were special” Iztal stated, his voice picking up as he thought about the implications of his letter, his eyes taking on an almost maniacal shine.

“um..yeah…maybe” Hadrian replied far from convinced but knowing better then to argue with Iztal, especially when he was like this. “So…..what are you going to do?” he asked tentatively to bring Iztal back to the present, away from where ever his thoughts had taken him.

“I don’t know. It talks about a place to buy supplies and such, some Diagon Alley? I think we should at least check to see if this place really exists” Iztal replied waving the parchment at Hadrian.

“Sure” Hadrian agreed swallowing the rest of his objections. He was not oblivious to the fact that if indeed Iztal went to this ‘school’ he would once again on his own. But since Iztal wasn’t bringing it up, he would be damned if he sounded pathetic and needy. Plus it was likely this was some type of hoax, the objective to which he could not decipher.

He knew one thing though. The possessive way Iztal clutched the letter meant nothing good, whether this was real or a joke. Nothing good at all.


	3. The art of discovery

**Chapter 2 : The art of discovery**

* * *

 

_“If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.” ―_ [ _Gregory Maguire_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7025.Gregory_Maguire) _,_ [ _Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1758112)

* * *

 

The boys had decided against trying to shimmer into Diagon Alley. Shimmer was the name they had given to closing their eyes and reappearing in a different place then they had been. They decided against trying this mainly because neither of them had ever seen or even heard of this so called ‘Diagon alley.’ Hadrian was still certain that this was some nefarious plot that would only result in their demise. But then again he had never been a very optimistic child, not that life had really ever given him a chance to be.

He did however care a great deal more then he would like to admit for Iztal and at this point and time Iztal was convinced that the letter just might be the answer to the various questions they both had. Mainly give a name to the abilities both boys seemed to possess. There was a reason that Matron Madix labeled Hadrian a ‘devil child,’ the reason being that strange things always seemed to happen around him.

The first time these ‘things’ happened, Hadrian had been little over two years of age. One of the girls, Alice had left him playing on a cracked plastic play mat holding one of the few unbroken toys, a stuffed bear of sorts. At that time Hadrian had been one of the favored children, being small for his age and undeniably cute. The girls who worked at the orphanage were not above favoritism, something the older children did not miss. The incident of course had not been witnessed by any of the adults but it was the start of oddities that were soon associated with the small dark haired child.

Alice had been brought running to the room alerted by the panicked screaming of one of the older boys, Tommy. When she arrived in the room she found Hadrian sprawled out on his stomach, several feet from the mat sporting a large red bump on his forehead, Tommy curled up against the far wall screaming bloody murder and the teddy bear midway between the children. All Alice had managed to get from Tommy was that Hadrian had made the bear come to life and attack him. He refused to say how Hadrian received the large bump or why the Teddy bear would have reason to attack him. Although confused by the event, the care takers were quick to put it down to over active imagination and dismiss it from thought.

This would have worked just fine if it had been the only strange thing to happen. However, it was the first of many more incidents that seemed to follow Hadrian and soon the matron’s were convinced that he was Satan’s child himself. Because of this they were more than happy to ignore the broken bones, bruises and cuts that Hadrian often sported after one of these incidents and quick to justify any actions of the other, often larger kids involved. This of course only resulted in more unexplainable things and increasingly violent reactions from the ‘victims.’

Matron Madix did her best to cure the child of his inner demons; church, skipped meals, prayers, an exorcism, beating it out of him, nothing worked. In all truth Hadrian suspected they were not all that sad when he ran away two years ago, he knew he certainly wasn’t. So yes, Hadrian could understand wanting to find something that would explain these things about him, because deep down he knew he wasn’t really possessed by the devil regardless of what Matron Madix claimed. And really if he was he didn’t particularly care, it seemed to him that if this was the truth that the devil was much kinder then any angel Matron Madix possessed. Still he hoped that this would not blow up in their faces and leave Iztal disappointed. The older boy was not pleasant when he was irritated much less disappointed.

Hadrian trailed dutifully after Iztal up _Charring Cross Road_ , the street listed in Iztal’s letter, both boys scanning the store fronts for the a pub displaying the name ‘ _The Leaky Cauldron’_. According to the now fold creased letter this was the entrance to Diagon Alley. Neither boy could honestly say if they had ever taken note of the pub before, then again it _Charring Cross Road_ wasn’t the type of street they normally ventured. The lack of wealthy tourists being the main reason for their absence.  

Iztal had reread the letter numerous times to Hadrian, absorbing every visible and perhaps not visible clue he could find. He told Hadrian that the letter had given him the option of requesting a magical chaperon to help him find and navigate the magical alley if he was unfamiliar with it. An option of course that he had not taken, both boys were long since past trusting anyone outside themselves. Which was part of the reason that on this rainy, dreary weekday, the two young children found themselves in front of a rather worn down looking pub, filled with rather odd looking folks.

Knowing better then to announce their presence to the pub’s patrons (most adults did not seem to understand that they although being of youthful age were more than capable of taking care of themselves), the boys entered silently behind a rather weary looking women. Slipping into one of the darker corner booths they elected to sit and observe before moving forward, a habit they had developed out of need for survival on the streets. Those who burst in without looking for possible trouble or dangers did not last long on the streets.

An hour later their precautions were rewarded, for they had deciphered several things. One: most of the occupants in pub really did not know how to dress (wearing all kinds of odd clothing from dress- like cloaks, to bathing suits over jeans). Two: most of these occupants headed straight out the doors located in the back and Three: almost all of them greeted the seemingly friendly bar keep whose name was Tom.

Hadrian let Iztal devise a plan of action, after all this was his letter…Hadrian was just along for the ride.

Iztal decided that following someone through the doors was their best option, and it wasn’t long until he had chosen their mark. The mark being a tall, rather uptight blond man. Hadrian was pretty sure the man perpetually smelled something awful if the upturned nose and disdainful expression on his face was anything to go upon. The man was undeniably well off, even if Hadrian hadn’t spent years of discerning his mark’s wealth he would have been able to discern this from the fine robes, silver staff and expensive cuff links the man ostentatiously showed off. They followed keeping a careful distance as to not alert the man of his shadows.

Hadrian watched closely as the man pulled out a stick and tapped a pattern on the brick wall that the doors had led to. Even Hadrian’s world worn soul was unable to dismiss the awe he felt as he watched the wall disintegrate before his eyes leaving a colorful, bustling alley just beyond. A quick glance over at Iztal and he knew he was not the only one awed at the sight.

“Come on” Iztal whispered tugging Hadrian’s sleeve so not to get trapped on their current side of the brick wall. Hadrian followed mutely after, letting his eyes and ears drink in the sights and sounds of the newly appeared world.

The boys spent the next several hours taking in every detail of the alley. From the rather crowded Apothecary, to a paper and quill shop by the name of _Scribbulus Everchanging Inks_ , Hadrian could not quite process the complete absurdly that a place like Diagon Alley existed outside the few torn fairytale books he had hidden from Peter and Simon at the orphanage.

There were shops full of sweets, shops screaming with the noise of owls, cats and dogs, an ice-cream stand with the oddest flavors (really peanut butter pickle ice cream?), there was a shop surrounded by other boys their age it’s window proudly displaying a broom (although Hadrian had no idea why a broom held such fascination). Beyond the shops were the people. As an avid people watcher Hadrian thought he’d died and gone to heaven. While normally he enjoyed people watching because it helped him decipher how best to rip them off, these people were fascinating with their loud colored clothing and their strange conversations (what the hell was a muggle? And why would someone want a flo?) Hadrian really thought he would never get enough.

However, one shop did interest him enough to tear his eyes away from an old woman (witch?) sporting a rather expensive looking jewel bracelet; this store was the book store. While most children his age might scoff at reading a book, thanks to Iztal Hadrian knew the importance of books, and more so the importance of the knowledge to be gained from them. Iztal had long ago drilled into his head that beyond wealth as power, that knowledge was power.

According to Iztal wealth could be stolen (something they both knew very well) but knowledge was your own, no one could take it from you. For this reason Hadrian felt a thrill run up his spine when he spotted the large book store, Florish & Blotts, even more so then the draw he felt toward a shady side looking avenue which from the sign labeled it Knockturn alley.

A sharp poke to Iztal’s shoulder and nod towards the bookstore was all that it took to convince Iztal to enter Florish & Blotts. And they were soon lost in the sheer size and choice of topics the store had to offer. From potions to monstrous creatures to how to grow the perfect love flower, there was no shortage of topics to peak their interests. Hadrian in particular took interest in ‘ _Looney Larceny: 101 ways to deplete your neighbors depositories’_ and ‘ _Shadow Sneaks: the art of moving unseen_.’

This of course brought a new problem to the forefront, neither of the boys had any money that they could use here. Luckily this problem was one that was rather easy to solve. Iztal had after all read and re-read the blasted letter a million times. And was quick to recall an overlooked detail.

Apparently Hogwarts (Hadrian personally thought that this was one of the most ridiculous names for a school he had ever heard of) offered a orphans fund, which as a parentless future attendee, Iztal could withdraw a set amount to pay for the school supplies he would need. This withdraw could be made at Gringotts ‘the wizards version of a bank. This was something that put both of them on edge. While thanks to Hadrian’s ‘gift’ they rarely lacked in funds, neither had ever stepped foot in a bank. They knew almost on instinct that such institutions would have much higher security and thought best to avoid them. Neither wanted to be caught stealing or worse catch the attention of a ‘do-gooder’ and be sent back to live in an orphanage, for their own good of course.

So it was with no little amount of trepidation that they entered the large marble building, hosting a large number of people and an even larger number of strange squat looking creatures (goblins apparently from what they overheard a father telling his son, “Don’t touch anything Jonathon, or the goblins will lock you in one of the vaults. Its true, no matter what your mother told you. So keep your hands in your pockets!”). Well Hadrian showed his nerves, Iztal of course was back to pretending that this was all in a day for him, his cold expressionless mask fixed firmly in place.

After observing a few of the customers interact with a goblin perched on a stool behind one of the counters, Iztal approached and handed the letter he had received to the creature. A rather grumpy irritated glare from said creature later, and a sample of blood from Iztal and they were in possession of a small sack of gold looking coins. Neither boy bothered asking what the coins were or their worth, they would figure it out on their own, like everything. It did not take them long to realize that the amount Iztal received would barely cover the cost of supplies he needed. Even with buying most things secondhand his money bag was running out rather quickly. This of course had an easy solution. Hadrian.

Hadrian did not mind lending a hand. While pick pocketing was something he had started out of necessity, it did not take long for it to become something he rather enjoyed. There was no greater thrill then being able to deceive and manipulate especially when he ended up benefiting from it. Luckily they caught sight of the snobby blond haired man they had followed earlier.

People caught up in their own self importance made for easy targets, they were often too busy being important to realize that they were being robbed. This time wasn’t any different. In a two man act, with Iztal ‘accidently’ running into the man and then receiving a rather creative verbal lashing (something about mudbloods and worthless runts…which Hadrian took to heart, he was rather sensitive to his lack of height),Hadrian took that distraction to remove a pouch similar if not of much better quality to the one Iztal had received from Gringotts, out of the man’s pocket. A quick retreat later and the boys discovered they had far more galleons (what the gold pieces were called apparently) then before.

The rest of the afternoon was spent buying the last of Iztal’s needed supplies, along with whatever caught the boys fancy. A large expandable and locking trunk, more books than one could hope to read in a year, a pair of snakes (Iztal insisted since this way they could at least talk to the animals, also he added that this way Hadrian would have something to add protection when Iztal was gone). This proclamation rather shocked Hadrian as Iztal rarely if ever said or did something to show Hadrian that he wasn’t a mere partner of convenience. Sure Hadrian thought of Iztal as a friend and mentor but he never once thought Iztal was capable of returning these feelings. Beyond the snakes they stalked up on stationary, quills and ink, intending to write each other while Iztal was away (neither was certain HOW they would do this as Hadrian would still be addressless, but they no longer doubted that they would not manage, they were magical after all), and finally wands.

It is true that Iztal needed a wand for school, but Hadrian figured it could not hurt to purchase one for himself since everyone in the alley seemed to have one. Of course he was pretty sure he was not suppose to have one, judging from the looks the old man in the wand shop gave him. The old man, Ollivander however did not say anything although he studied the two boys with an intensity that unnerved even Iztal, all the while muttering under his breath ‘curious, curious’. Ollivander did not expand on his observations however and neither of the boys was about to ask him, so several exploded lamps later, they walk out with a pair of newly purchased wands.

Iztal’s was a 10 & ½ inch yew wand with a Gorgon heart string as the core. Hadrian’s wand was 13 inches and made from _Dracaena cinnabari,_ also known as the dragon blood tree. This tree was said to only grow in a waterless environment (as water was associated with life and this tree was associated with death) on which a dragon had spilt it’s life source (blood) on, hence the name. The core which most unnervingly caused the old man to stare even harder at Hadrian doing so of course only after giving a little start of surprise was a dual core.

Dual cores according to Ollivander were used only when one core was not of sufficient enough strength the channel a wizard’s magical core and was apparently rather rare. Hadrian’s wand core was made from the frozen hair of a Kludde (a gigantic black dog with blue flames around its head, this creature takes other forms outside a dog but is associated with death as it prowls dark deserted lanes at night and tears apart travelers it finds) and a sliver of the vertebral column of an Amphisbaena (a snake with a head at either end). In the end despite the foreboding looks Ollivander gave them, they were more than pleased with their purchases.

It was with a mix of satisfaction, excitement and dread that Hadrian followed Iztal home. It was true that he had been raised essentially to depend on himself, but rather disconcertingly he found that he had grown to also lean on Iztal. While he was thrilled with the fact that magic existed and both he and Iztal could do it, he was more than a little worried about the upcoming year, a year where once again he would be alone.

Neither of them spoke about it outside vague allusions, such as Iztal buying him a snake for protection or the purchase of ink and parchment for communication, almost as if speaking it out loud would bring the date closer.

Iztal did not allow for sentimentalities from Hadrian, he stated they were weaknesses along with other emotions such as hurt, longing, caring or love. Emotions only led to dependence. Dependence made you weak, when you were weak you could be hurt. Not something that was permissible in Iztal’s world. So Hadrian buried his fears for the future beneath layers of indifference and calm.

He had survived before Iztal, he would be damned if he couldn’t survive after.


	4. The art of being alone

** Chap 3: The art of being alone **

  _It was at that moment he realized that his spirit was truly human once more. For he no longer remembered how to be alone without being lonely.” ―_[ _Neal Shusterman_](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19564.Neal_Shusterman) _,_[ _Everwild_](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/7134311)

As Hadrian followed his friend across the hidden barrier (a barrier which would lead to the departure of his only family member) he felt as if he was being pulled apart by a combination of conflicting emotions.

For one he was proud and excited for Iztal, he cared enough for the other boy he wanted what was best for him and getting off the streets and an education was undeniably the best thing for Iztal. However, deep down he could not deny he was equal parts jealous and afraid. Hadrian knew that although Iztal was only 18 months older than him, that others saw cruelness in Iztal that made them both respect and fear the boy. This in turn made them leave the two of them alone. Hadrian was anything but stupid, he knew that his life would become much more difficult without the older boys protection. Beyond these feelings Hadrian felt hurt. He knew that Iztal needed to go to this school, but it didn’t stop him from feeling that once again he was being abandoned. Iztal was right, caring was a weakness.

Even with this inner turmoil taking place Hadrian could not help but once again feel awed at the sight of the Hogwarts Express. The loud din of parents, children and their familiars filled the platform but Hadrian could not tear his eyes away from the magnificent red train.

“Iztal look!” he whispered unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Iztal shook his head at Hadian’s childish reaction but smiled indulgently at the raven haired youth. Anyone else he would have found this exuberance irritating, but Hadrian had always been the exception. “Close your mouth you gobshite, your catching flies” he admonished, no real malice in his tone.

Hadrian reddened with embarrassment but couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face. “Shut up, God Iztal your so lucky….I-I wish I was going with you”

“I know Hades. But it’s only a year, you can do what I can, I know you’ll get invited next year” Iztal replied with conviction. There was no doubt that Hadrian was special like he was. He would after all never tolerate someone who was ordinary.

Hadrian didn’t reply. He wouldn’t burden his friend with the despair he was feeling at being left behind. He wouldn’t take away from this day for Iztal. Both boys let their eyes scan the crowd, Hadrian out of pure interest, Iztal picking out potential allies. Their habit of observing first, acting after had not failed them yet. In fact it was the reason that they had even found the hidden entrance to the platform. Even they had not suspected that you had to walk through a bloody brick wall to get into the platform. Wizards were a little odd.

As the train whistled its 15min to departure warning Hadrian shifted nervously from foot to foot, unsure what to say. He wanted to hug his friend but didn’t dare, Iztal hated physical contact even more then he did, and that was saying something. Iztal for once looked just as uncomfortable as Hadrian did.

“I’ll write. I’m sure I’ll have lots to tell you. That way you will know what to expect when it’s your turn” Iztal finally said. Hadrian just nodded, he didn’t dare speak he didn’t want his voice to crack or do something equally as mortifying.

“I’ll figure out how to send you the letters, even if you have to move or something….Avoid Jeremy and his gang. Keep Moñái with you she should help keep the idiots at bay, and for godsake don’t advertise that I’m not around” Iztal demanded, going over his instructions for what must have been the tenth time that morning. (Moñái was the name he had given his snake, after one of the seven legendary monster of a tribe in South America. This monster was said to be lord of the skies and had a habit of robbing and raiding the people, causing discord and mistrust amongst them. Hadrian thought it rather appropriate considering who he was).

“I Know Iztal, I’m not a moron” Hadrian stated slightly defensive. He COULD take care of himself he wasn’t an invalid. His fear for Iztal’s departure had more to do with the fact he didn’t WANT the boy to leave not that he NEEDED him to stay.

The final warning whistle went off. “I know” Iztal replied so quietly Hadrian almost missed it. Iztal stood a second longer looking torn with indecision. In a quick move he leaned over and grasped Hadrian in a quick forceful hug before letting go and walking away so quickly Hadrian almost thought he had imagined the whole thing.

Hadrian watch Iztal disappear into the huge train in shock, it wasn’t until the boy had vanished that Hadrian whispered under his breath, “Good bye Iztal, don’t forget about me.”

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

_One month later (early October)_

Hadrian settled his small frame down in the old sofa of his and Iztal’s flat, effectively turning himself into a human pretzel. Once settled he removed the letter with no small amount of reverence for the third time that day, which considering that he had only received it this morning was telling. It was Iztal’s first letter to him since he had left a little over a month ago. To say that Hadrian had been a little shocked to wake up to a large brown owl staring down at him would be an understatement, he had after all not been witness to Iztal receiving his Hogwarts letter. Despite his rather intrusive wake up call, Hadrian was thrilled with Iztal’s letter.

While written in what Hadrian had come to term ‘Iztal speak’ (aka: abrupt, factual, an emotionally void relaying of facts), Hadrian was able to read between the lines and tell that Iztal was in fact excited, interested and impressed with his new world. The only thing that gave Iztal pause was the hint at Iztal’s house placement. While Iztal was in no uncertain terms happy with being placed in Slytherin, Hadrian could tell that he had not received the most welcoming of initiations into the house. According Iztal, the wizarding world was not all that unlike muggle (which Iztal told him was the term for nonmagical people) society. According to Iztal that wizards, even beyond wealth and knowledge (especially Slytherins) seemed to value blood purity. Hadrian thought this was stupid, it reminded him rather of the muggles and their prejudices against people of different color or cultural backgrounds.

But he trusted Iztal and if Iztal said it was important then Hadrian wasn’t going to argue. Plus he knew just how hateful and disgusting muggles could be; he had after all spent more than enough time with them in the orphanage. Really he had never received a speck of kindness from ANY muggle before. The only one that had ever showed him an ounce of kindness (that he remembered anyway) had been Iztal and Iztal was a wizard. So Hadrian could understand in a way this prejudice.

Iztal had hinted that being an orphan and poor had made his introduction to the wizarding world and more importantly the Slytherin house a tad more difficult, but Hadrian knew that Iztal was unlikely to let this stand in his way so he pushed his worries for his friend aside and reveled in the other details Iztal had imparted. Truthfully the letter reminded Hadrian more of a storybook or a piece of fiction then reality which given Hadrian’ s penance for day dreaming only made him yearn for this new world even more.

Hadrian sighed and reluctantly refolded the letter and put it away. It would not do to sit and wallow, nothing could come of that. No, it was time to go and see if he could snitch something. He had decreased the number of trips in which he stole things from when it was him and Iztal. In truth he no longer needed to steal as much as it was only him, that and he had less security in leaving his cache of goods behind with no one to watch over them.

Hadrian had returned to Diagon alley twice since his trip with Iztal, more to watch and learn then to steal anything. That and to pass time and limit the risk of him running into Jeremy and his crew. The more time he spent in the magical world the less he spent hiding. So far he had been lucky. He had not had any confrontations with the other street players, for this he was thankful.

“Come Moñái….we are going hunting!”Hadrian hissed at his familiar. He had spent an increasing amount of time conversing with his snake. It was through talking with his familiar that he had discovered that it was an Inland Tapain, a snake that while not normally aggressive had the most toxic venom of any land snake. Leave it to Iztal to buy him a lethal snake and not tell him. Not that he was afraid of the snake as Moñái had promised to never bite him, but still.

“This is good, I am hungry and bored little one, where are you taking us?”Moñái asked slithering her rather innocuous brown colored body to coil around his forearm.

“I think Diagon alley is the best choice. I think it would be wise to start making acquaintances my age. That way I will have allies before even entering Hogwarts. If Iztal’s letter is anything to go by I believe allies would be wise, my dear”Hadrian replied, a plan slowly formulating. From what he had garnered from Iztal’s letter Slytherin house was about power, wealth and blood purity. It sounded like a hierarchy, one that you did not want to be on the bottom of. If Hadrian could somehow manage to enter his first year already having a powerful ally behind him this would only serve in his best interests. And Hadrian always served his own interests first. Well, that is decided then, he would go to Diagon alley and scout out potentials. Someone his age, who was wealthy and what Iztal called ‘pure of blood.

Decision made, Hadrian couldn’t help but be pleased. Not only would this benefit him in the long run, it would give him something to do other then miss Iztal. Yes, gain more power…Iztal would approve.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

_Mid-December_

Hadrian absently noted the cold air that was slipping through the only, albeit broken window in the flat. Really he should do something about that, but at moment he simply did not care. He did not know what he was. He was angry, lonely, confused, worried and most of all hurt. All thanks to this blasted letter. Sure intellectually he realized it was the writer not the letter that he was actually angry at, but then again at the moment he did not much feel like being intellectual.

He crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it across the room. And things had been going so well. Okay, so not awesome…he was still alone after all. But they had been going well enough. He had made remarkable progress in his task. It had taken time, but he had successfully be-friended? well made acquaintance with ,Draco Malfoy.

He had spotted the rather spoiled blond trailing after the snooty man that he and Iztal had robbed early in the year. Knowing the man was wealthy, and assuming he was pure of blood (if the disdainful look he gave everyone else was anything to go by), Iztal had managed to accidently be purchasing robes of fine quality at the same time as the Malfoy heir was.

He had of course stolen said Galleons for robes earlier in the day. He had also been careful to purchase numerous books concerning wizarding tradition and beliefs a week earlier and had spent every waking hour studying them to be sure not to offend the pretentious boy. All in all his efforts paid off. Really it was simpler then he thought it would be. When asked by Draco where his parents where he had used a simple misdirect. “Your parent’s don’t trust you enough to let you shop on your own?” with a snooty tone had done it. The blond boy had colored a rather deep shade of magenta before continuing to talk about himself.

From what Hadrian could gather the boy was rather lonely for company his own age, not to mention loved nothing more than to talk about himself, his own importance and his families importance. Really, all Hadrian had had to do was nod every once in a while and say a few derogatory comments about muggles. Hadrian had been slightly concerned that Draco’s father would recognize him, or ask the uncomfortable questions that Draco had neglected but his fears had been unfounded. Lucius, apparently spent very little time concerning himself with his son’s affairs. Sure he put on a fatherly act when greeting his own associates but from what Hadrian could garner he spent very little time actually being a father to Draco. All the better for him.

So yes, things had been going just fine for Hadrian, and he could not wait to tell Iztal in person. Which he could do over Christmas holls since Iztal had promised Hadrian he would come back for them. A lie apparently, if the letter Hadrian had taken his ire out on was telling.

Hadrian and Iztal had never actually celebrated the stupid holiday, but regardless they still were together. It wasn’t so much the fact that Iztal was missing the holiday or even the fact that he was not coming back; it was more to do with the fact that he had broken his word. Never before had he broke a promise to Hadrian. Sure he could be cruel, say harsh things or even violent but he never lied. He had once told Hadrian that there was no point in lying when he could just tell Hadrian the truth. What was left unsaid was that Iztal trusted Hadrian to not leave even if his truths were unpleasant.

So this was a major slap in the face. Hadrian knew he was being melodramatic, but to him this was a confirmation of his worst fears. Iztal was moving on, he was forgetting him. In the midst of his pity session, Hadrian had sent the brown owl away without replying. He was that angry.

If Iztal could forget him, then fine he would forget Iztal. Deep down he knew that this was not possible.

_Late February_

Not even a week after Hadrian had angrily dismissed the school owl, reason slowly began to wiggle its way into the fore front of his brain. With reason came guilt. He had over reacted he knew this even while doing it. This was the type of stupid emotion that made one weak.

Iztal had explained in his letter that he needed to stay in the castle to give him time to study. Hadrian KNEW that knowledge would lead to power, so really he wasn’t all that surprised that Iztal wanted a chance to increase his. True, he was still hurt at the broken promise, but really did it make that big of a difference? It wasn’t like Iztal had out right lied to his face; he had simply changed his mind.

Somehow, Hadrian preferred his righteous anger to the now churning guilt he was experiencing. After not replying to Iztal, Iztal in turn and not sent another letter. Hadrian did not have an owl to apologize with and even if he did he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to say sorry. After all it wasn’t ALL his fault.

Hadrian had instead buried his guilt in his task. Meeting more often with Draco in Diagon alley (Draco’s father had eventually agreed to allow the preteen to go alone, if he was back before a set time). Something that helped facilitate the boys meetings. The topics between the two were never very deep, often centering on quiditch (a queer wizarding sport), things they had learned (Draco from tutors, Hadrian from books…not that Draco knew Hadrian was teaching himself), and notable figures in the wizarding world. Despite his age, Draco happened to be rather knowledgeable on important ministry workers, and the most powerful, and influential wizards in the wizarding world. Their conversations had even strayed to ‘The dark lord, Voldmort, who according to Draco had been the most powerful dark wizard to ever exist. Well up until some spell backfired on a toddler and killed him. Though Draco insisted he wasn’t really dead.

Hadrian had found the story interesting and it had led to him questioning what the difference between light and dark wizards was. He of course could not ask Draco (as Draco believed he grew up in the wizarding world and would have found the question rather suspicious) so Hadrian had added more reading material on the topic. What he had found however did not really answer his question and seemed rather screened to say the least.

That was another thing Hadrian had thrown himself into. Research, reading and learning. He spent hour upon hour reading books on potions, transfigurations, hexes, history, charms, auras basically anything that he could afford and get his hands on. More and more of his ill gotten loot went towards his quest for knowledge so much so that he had started to neglect taking care of himself. More often than not he missed meals or a night’s sleep in favor of attaining more knowledge.

These habits of course lent to his over sight in how to make things right with Iztal. It wasn’t until late February, while heading out of Diagon alley after meeting Draco for the afternoon did it hit Hadrian. Passing by the owl post, Hadrian could have struck himself. Of course! He could use one of the owls in the alley to send a letter. Really the cost would be minimal. And at this point Hadrian missed his friend enough to apologize and ask for forgiveness. He only hoped he was not too late. .

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

_End of May_

Hadrian shuddered as carefully crawled into the small damp space, a feeling of overwhelming loss and anger raged inside him. Following his apology to Iztal many months earlier, things had resumed as before. Iztal had begrudgingly accepted his apology (not that he said as much but the resumption of correspondence from him stated that he had), Hadrian had continued his learning, though not at as frenzied of pace as previously, and he had continued to spend time with Draco.

Everything had been moving along as it should, right up until earlier that day. Hadrian squeezed his smoke wearied eyes close and thought back on what had caused his current predicament.

_Growing low on basic supplies Hadrian had forgone his usual trip to the alley for a visit to muggle London instead. Several hours of patience had been rewarded and he had managed to pilfer two wallets, which contents he had immediately used to buy a few non –perishables, a set of clothes and a pair of new shoes (the old ones had developed holes in the sole). While remarkably Hadrian had managed to avoid Jeremy up until this point. it seemed as though his luck had run its course._

_Hadrian had been scuttling down the nearly abandoned back alley, it was the best short cut to his flat. He had decided against dissapparting (this was apparently what shimmering was called), mainly because he had Moñái with him and she hated it). Having perhaps grown slightly over confidant in his lack of confrontations thus far, he really hadn’t argued with her, leading to him walking quite nearly alone down the alley._

_“Well, well boys what have we here” a raspy but oh too familiar voice called out._

_Hadrian spun slowly around to face the owner of the voice. While Iztal and he had used their abilities in front of the group before (well Iztal anyway), Hadrian had learned from Draco how important it was that Muggles not see or find out about magic. Therefore, while Hadrian felt his stomach clench with dread he decided against dissapparting and fleeing._

_“What do you want Jeremy?” Hadrian asked his tone flat, not betraying the storm of emotion just under the surface._

_This was not the first encounter he had had with the late teen. It had occurred shortly after meeting Iztal, before Hadrian really understood his abilities outside basic protection. It was another reminder that being a beautiful child was not a favorable thing on the streets. If Iztal had not come upon them when he did….Hadrian shuddered to think what could have happened._

_“What makes you think I want something, pretty? Maybe I jus interested in some conversation hmm?” Jeremy replied his lips turned up in a parody of a smile. He was not alone, not that the drug king ever was. Like always he had a group of muscle with him, all which chuckled darkly at their leaders comment._

_Hadrian didn’t answer, letting his eyes scan for a possible exit while appearing to lean casually against the stained brick wall behind him._

_“Where’s your little friend pretty? I haven’t seen him around in awhile… it would appear that you are quite alone” Jeremy continued his smile falling at the lack of response he so obviously wanted and expected from his prey._

_“He’s coming, had a few extra things to pick up…things I’m not sure you’d enjoy them” Hadrian replied feigning more bravado then he felt at the moment. More and more he was thinking that he would have to resort to his ‘abilities’ to come out of this unscathed._

_“You know, I really don’t think he is….” Jeremy hissed out, pressing in closer so that his unwashed body pressed Hadrian against the wall. “I really don’t think he’ll be along to interrupt us this time”_

_Hadrian fought his urge to gag at the smell of the older man, “Is this really the only way you can get some action? Forcing yourself on those smaller then yourself? No one willing to sleep with a disgusting, cunt like yourself?” Hadrian spit into his too close of face. “Really Jeremy I didn’t take you for a poof” he added just to add to what the older man would take as an insult._

_“You little slut….I’ll make you pay for that” Jeremy spat his face clenched in rage._

_Hadrian knew that last had been a mistake, seeing no plausible escape from this situation he took the time to bring his knee up hard into the others groin before promptly dissapparting leaving his purchases scattered behind._

Had this been the end of it, Hadrian would have said he got off rather easily. However he should have known better.

_Hadrian had apparated to his flat, angry and not a little disappointed at the loss of his next meal. Deciding that had been more than enough action for the day, Hadrian decided against going out and finding something to eat. Rather he curled back into himself picking up the new potions book he had purchased earlier in the week. Not for the first time Hadrian wished he could be more like Iztal. Iztal did not hesitate to hurt those who threatened or hurt him. Hadrian would defend himself if pushed but he was always far more hesitant to fight back with violence regardless of the situation._

_Pushing these ruminating thoughts away he concentrated on his book, determinedly ignoring the hunger pains in his gut. Slowly but surely he relaxed the words in front of him once more taking him away from the pains and frustrations of the physical world. Slowly he drifted into an uneasy sleep._

_The first thing Hadrian processed when he woke was the choking, burning sensation in his lungs. Next the searing heat that threatened to engulf him registered. Hadrian shot up, looking wildly around him, taking in the bright orange and red tinge of his surroundings, the harsh colors only being dimmed by the cloying, choking grey smoke that billowed and filled the flat._

_In the back of his mind Hadrian thought dully, ‘guess Jeremy didn’t appreciate failing and being embarrassed in front of his crew’ this fleeting thought only competed with the question of how Jeremy had found the flat. It had been his and Iztal’s secret from the gang. Iztal had been careful to remove the knowledge from everyone else’s mind after they had taken it to be their own._

_The instinct of survival finally fought its way through Hadrian’s smoke addled brain, the searing pain of a 2 nd degree burn on his arm helping to clarify things. Hadrian’s quick scan of the smoke filled room told him that it was too late to save his belongings, thankfully Moñái liked to wrap around his torso when he slept. Giving up on the idea of saving anything, Hadrian closed his eyes an apparated them to the other side of London. To a street he had once stumbled upon by accident while trying to find another hunting ground. The street was in descript, filled with worn down buildings and dying businesses. _

_Hadrian thought to the small library worth of books that had been destroyed and for the first time in years let a single tear run down his cheek._


	5. The art of backfiring

** Chapter 4: The art of backfiring  **

****(Note: Bold indicates thoughts!)****

_It_ [ _really_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/really/) _does_ [ _matter_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/matter/) _when we_ [ _tell_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/tell/) [ _even_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/even/) _the_ [ _slightest_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/slightest/) [ _untruth_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/untruth/) _. Even_ [ _something_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/something/) _as_ [ _well_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/well/) [ _intentioned_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/intentioned/) _as_ [ _telling_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/telling/) [ _someone_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/someone/) [ _their_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/their/) [ _ill_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/ill/) _-_ [ _finished_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/finished/) [ _hair_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/hair/) [ _style_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/style/) [ _looks_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/looks/) [ _wonderful_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/wonderful/) _will_ [ _backfire_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/backfire/) _-_ [ _certainly_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/certainly/) [ _karmically_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/karmically/) _, and_ [ _usually_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/usually/) [ _practically_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/quotes/practically/) _. -_ [ _Jonathan Lockwood Huie_ ](http://www.quotes-inspirational.com/by/jonathan-lockwood-huie/)

Albus stifled a yawn as he arched his back stretching lazily from his hunched over position at his desk. He had spent the last 2 hours stamping each Hogwarts invitation envelope and felt that he really did deserve a break. He cursed once again the fact that the school quill they normally used had been stolen by that dratted poltergeist, Peeves. It really did make this whole task so much more bothersome.

Still even manually addressing 35 letters to the potential first years was not quite enough to cause his mood to be completely dismal, after all this would be Harry Potter’s first year! Finally, after such a bloody long wait he could continue on with his plans. “ **Yes, it was time to go and collect the boy, nurture and guide him, teach him… make sure he would become what was needed. Sure, to an outsider his plan and machinations might seem a tad cruel or self serving, but that was NOT the case at all! No, while yes Harry falling in-line to be the perfect little light icon would benefit how people saw him and therefore affect how many of them continued to support his pro-light stance, it wasn’t ALL about him**.

**He knew that many of his plans looked out for his own interests, but even he realized that he would not live forever. No, he was getting on in years and therefore it was only prudent that he make sure that his goals and ideals would survive on after. As much as he liked to nurture the rumors that Tom was gone, Albus wasn’t naïve or stupid, he knew that Tom was still out there. His success that Halloween night had definitely set Tom back and in doing so ensured that he was free to push ahead his own plans, but still one had to prepare for the worst.**

**So, really, ensuring Harry was more amendable to his own views was not only benefiting him but it was for the greater good!** Albus mentally cringed at the last bit. That sentence always brought up such unpleasant memories…he sighed pushing those particular memories back into the recesses of his mind, not the time to dwell on the past after all.

 **Anyway…where was he before his mental tangent? Ah yes…Harry, first year. Hmmm…perhaps he would take the letter to the boy himself….yes that was a good plan**. He sighed. **Of course Minerva would want to come along, she was still somewhat bitter over not being included in delivering the boy to his relatives all those years before. Ah, well it wouldn’t hurt, and would go a ways in soothing her**.

Reaching his decision Albus reached for his bowl of lemon drops, reassured by his own genius. Not once did Albus stop to consider what would happen if Harry Potter was not where Albus had left him.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“It’s rather…. _clean_ ” Minerva offered as she walked up Privet drive, only the slight scrunch of her nose indicated her reproach. That Minerva was disdainful of something being too orderly was almost laughable, but really even SHE had her limits. While she approved of smudge free essays, tucked shirts, and clean faces, this neighborhood was so precise, it was un-natural. It definitely did not seem like atmosphere a child should be raised in.

“Yes, yes….much better than some of the unhygienic homes our children are brought up in” Albus replied either missing her disproval or more likely dismissing it.

“Hmph” was her answer. The pair quickly made their way past several nearly identical houses to one that had a large shiny brass number 4 on the mailbox.

“Ahh….here we are…I remember it like it was only yesterday” Albus stated gazing at the house with what could only be a nostalgic expression upon his wizened face.

“Yes, well I do NOT remember it, as I WAS NOT invited along” Minerva retorted sharply, still somewhat peeved over her exclusion. She had served the order faithfully, she was Albus’s right hand…or at least she THOUGHT she was. She had wanted to see the child, ensure his well being for herself. Really it hadn’t been all that much to ask.

“Now, now Minnie. You, know I apologized for that already. But it was for little Harry’s own good. The fewer people who knew his location the safer he was. There were plenty of people looking to harm him after Voldmort’s fall” Albus admonished gently, the damnable twinkle never faltering.

Minerva looked slightly chastened at this. She would never want to put Harry in danger after all.

“Well, shall we?” Albus asked brightly, now that that little disagreement was settled, gesturing towards the door. Albus knocked loudly on the door; both he and Minerva took a step back to wait for the door to swing open.

The sound of a laughing child was heard, followed by the sound of two people running towards the door, the crash indicative of one not quite making it. Finally the door swung open, revealing a slightly flushed and out of breath blond girl, just over her shoulder the adults could make out a slightly larger dark haired boy sprawled out in the hall behind her. “Who are you?” the girl demanded, an expectant expression on her face.

Albus looked slightly confused for a moment but quickly shrugged it off. “Well Hello there! Is your mommy or daddy home? I am here to talk to them” he answered the question, looking every bit the indulgent grandfather.

The girl gave him a hard stare before relenting, “Yuuuppp, mommies in the garden, out back I’ll get her. Stay here” She demanded as an afterthought. After all her mom said never to let a stranger into the house. The girl spun leaving the door slightly ajar. “Moooove your fat head, Patrick….I need to get through” was said to the supine boy as the girl stepped over him.

Albus didn’t catch Patrick’s reply; his mind was too caught up in his shock. **Patrick? Who was Patrick? Surely that was Harry?**

Several minutes later, a slightly disheveled looking blond woman stood in front of them, “Yes? Can I help you?” she asked politely, her eyebrows rising slightly at the site of the people standing in her doorway. The elderly man had one of the longest beards she had ever seen, and the woman was sporting a rather pinched expression on her face.

“Yes! I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and this is my colleague Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress and transfiguration teacher. We are here about Harry, you must be Petunia” Albus stated beaming at the women.

“I’m sorry but I think you have the wrong house? Who is Harry? And no, my name is Sara, Sara Kermin. I have no idea who Petunia is, sorry” Ms. Kermin stated looking at Albus as if he had sprouted horns (he resented that look, he hadn’t had horns since that blasted prank, the summer of 1969. He still hated that song).

Albus and Minerva both looked shell shocked. “Bu…wha…erm” Albus spluttered before clearing his throat and starting again. “My apologies madam, I was under the impression that this was the home of the Dursley family?” he questioned.

“I’m sorry….Mr. Dumley…er Dumlblebore, but this is definitely not the Dursley household. Me and my children have been living her for the past 4 years” Ms. Kermin replied, watching the older man’s face pale, and the women’s face pinch even more.

“Would you perhaps know Where the family who lived here before has gone?” Minerva enquired fighting to keep her anger in check. Blast Albus! Not keeping tabs on their savior. Really, that man!

“Mmm…sorry, I never met the family, all the arrangements were through a realtor, here take this, he might have a better idea” the woman answered quickly flipping through a ceramic bowl filled with cards on the coffee table to her left, before fishing one out and handing it to Albus. “Look, if that’s all?” she trailed off looking slightly impatient to get on with her day.

This seemed to shake Albus out of his rumination. “Oh…ah, yes of course. We will do that, thanks for your help Ms. Kermin” he replied placing the business card in his breast pocket of the cotton candy pink muggle shirt he had donned for this occasion. Bright colors relaxed others, after all.

The pair retreated from the house. At the sound of the front door closing, Minerva spun to face Albus. “How exactly could you not have known they had moved?? I thought you were keeping tabs on the boy? And what about the quill? surely it told you were he was?” her steadily increasing voice ranted.

 **Drat!** He may have neglected to tell Minerva that the quill was currently missing. “Well apparently the quill made a mistake, no matter we’ll sort this out shortly Minnie” Albus answered skating over her accusations.

Minerva however was having none of it. “And were you not monitoring him?”

Albus cleared his throat and fought not to squirm under the heated glare of his Deputy headmistress. Sighing he figured he had better tell her at least part of the truth, “ I HAD planned on having Arabella Figg move into the neighborhood and monitor the boy….you know her from the order?” he paused waiting for Minerva to acknowledge that she did indeed know whom he was speaking of. When she did he continued with his explanation, “Well her sister ended up getting sick and she had to move Canada to help take care of her, it was always the plan that she would move back here and take up the monitoring of young mister Potter, but well….turns out her sister was more ill then anticipated and the move became permanent, and well with everything going on, it just got lost in the shuffle.” Albus had the grace to at least look a little guilty over this. “I am very busy” he tried to defend himself as Minerva’s expression went from anger to disbelief to pure rage.

“Unbelievable” was all she managed.

Albus stood under gaze for a few minutes trying his best to look repentant before clearing his throat. “Well, what’s done is done Minnie, we best go and find where Mr. Potter has gotten too”

Minerva shook her head somewhat incredulous of the man in front of her. Sighing, she pushed her anger away. It would not due to turn the man into a whiffenpoof right now; after all they had a little boy to find. “Lead the way”

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Two days later, Albus once again sat behind his desk, this time gazing forlornly at the student list in front of him, his mood to the far right of dismal. They had of course tried in vain to locate young mister Potter. They had spoken with the realtor who had eventually been persuaded (okay, so Albus legilimencized the man) to reveal the new location of the Dursleys.

A very tense, emotion ridden meeting with said family later revealed that they had never actually taken the boy in but instead left him at an orphanage in London. Which orphanage of course Petunia did not remember, even after a thorough search of her mind all Albus had managed to garner was that it was located on a rather sketchy looking street. This of course had led to a group, specially selected by Dumbledore scouring every London based orphanage. But to no avail, no Harry Potter was found. (Sure of his brilliance, Albus did not stop to consider that Petunia had given him a different name).

Now, he was left to ponder just how everything had gone so pear shaped. Wearily massaging his temple he finally straightened. Well, there was nothing to it. He would have to manually send a letter out by owl and hope that it would find the boy. **This was NOT how he had wanted to insinuate himself into the boy’s life, but there was little that could be done now**. Surrendering to this, Albus directed his attention to re-structuring his plans.

 **Harry might not have grown up how he had planned, but this might still work. Perhaps, the boy had been taken in by some muggle family? He could work with that; the boy would still be ignorant of magic still moldable. Or while less ideal maybe a light family had adopted him? This would make him less impervious to Albus’s influences but he would still be raised to respect the light ideals.** Albus would not let himself consider the worst case scenario.

**No, surely the boy hadn’t been raised by death eaters.**


	6. The art of expectations

**Chapter 5: The art of expectation**

_“If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?” ―_ [ _Jodi Picoult_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7128.Jodi_Picoult) _,_ [ _Nineteen Minutes_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3375915)

The summer had passed with astonishing speed. While Iztal was eager to return to Hogwarts, especially since Hadrian would be coming along this time, he had so many things that he had needed to accomplish first.

Hogwarts had been an eye opening experiencing, between being wowed by everything that magic entailed, not having to worry about having enough to eat for the first time in his life, and the slippery slope of establishing one’s place in Slytherins hierarchy Iztal had barely enough time to sleep much less worry about his smaller friend.

Coming ‘home’ at the end of last year had been a shock. He had been excited enough for once, to actually show this excitement: a rare thing for him. He could not wait to see Hadrian in person and give him the small trinkets he had collected over the year for his friend, what he had not expected was for Hadrian to have changed.

Oh, cognitively he realized that Hadrian would change; a year apart would do that. He knew he himself was different; he had grown more manipulative, he was quicker to cut others down with his words, simply said he had learned how to once again survive and excel in his environment. However despite his own change he had somehow expected to come back to the Hadrian he had left, the prodigy, the boy who tried to be as hard and calculating as Iztal was but fell just short, allowing emotions to rule his actions. The little boy who trusted him implicitly. Instead he had found a Hadrian that was vastly different.

Oh there were hints of the boy he had left behind if you looked close enough, but Hadrian had changed. Whether for the better or worse would be a matter of perspective. Physically, Hadrian had gained a few inches, making him appear even gaunter then before. Hallow cheeks and sharp angles told the story of just how often he had been eating. At this Iztal had felt something odd twinge in his gut, had he not known better he would have sworn it was guilt. This notion was ridiculous of course, Iztal did NOT do guilt. There were also the additional shadows under his eyes, like sleep was something he did not have the luxury for. While worrisome, the physical changes were not what caught Iztal’s attention. It was Hadrian’s new demeanor.

He was colder. Hadrian’s once fairly visible emotions were now kept well beneath the surface. His movements and actions had taken a much sharper, more calculating note, much closer to Iztal’s own. Hadrian still showed he was happy and excited for the return of his friend, but his reactions were much more tempered, his happiness somewhat more hollow.

Other changes that were not related to Hadrian’s new demeanor greeted Iztal on return. Iztal had been somewhat surprised to learn that Hadrian was no longer living in the flat they had found together. When asked Hadrian simply explained tone full of apology, that he had fallen asleep and the fire he had been using got out of hand. This story in itself was suspicious, for Iztal knew that Hadrian was not that careless, but Hadrian had offered this explanation then stubbornly refused to say more so Iztal had decided to let it be….for now.

It had taken the first few weeks of summer vacation to reestablish their previous rhythm. At first Hadrian had been a little too cautious and reserved towards him. Almost as if he was simply waiting for Iztal to find a reason to leave. Iztal again felt that odd twinge in his gut, but resolutely ignored it and went further by ignoring Hadrian’s behavior. This seemed to work as slowly but surely they re-established their equilibrium.

The first true excitement Iztal witnessed from the raven haired beauty was the arrival of Hadrian’s Hogwarts letter. A light Iztal hadn’t realized was missing had shone from those familiar green eyes. That night they had decided to celebrate and had actually gone out for dinner. True, it was some greasy dinner but even that in itself was a risk, all it would take would be for one curious person to remark to the wrong someone that two children had come in alone. Even in this scruffy neighborhood it was an anomaly to see kids unaccompanied by an adult. They would rather not catch the attention of the coppers, or worse yet a group like Jeremy’s.

That was another thing that had changed since last time he had been home. There was not a sign, not even a whisper of Jeremy’s group. When Iztal had asked Hadrian if he had seen them or had any issues with them, Hadrian had adopted a suspiciously innocent expression and answered, “Jeremy? Hmm…no. Now that you mention it, I have NO idea where they are. Or what MIGHT have happened to them.” The slightly vindictive shine in his eyes was not missed by Iztal.

Aside from these little in congruencies however the summer had been a good one. And now that September was drawing ever near, Iztal had started to worry about their return. He had fought hard and long to establish a name and garner the respect of his school mates. In doing so he had become even colder, crueler towards them. This strategy had been the correct one to adopt with his Slytherin dorm mates who seemed to prefer to follow someone they feared over someone who showed them kindness. This was fine with Iztal, he had never particularly liked others, however it would be a problem now that Hadrian was coming with him.

Hadrian was the one person on the planet that Iztal did not actually want to be cruel towards. He was the only one whom Iztal had ever shown an ounce of kindness towards. Now Iztal’s kindness and what others might term kindness were infinitely different. Iztal’s kindness was much more controlling, possessive, and thorny then most people’s but it was still kindness all the same. And Iztal showing kindness to anyone would undermine his carefully constructed image of the Ice prince.

Yes, this was troubling. As cruel as he was he did not want to hurt Hadrian, no it was the last thing he wanted. Still he had not gone through all that trouble last year just to lose it because some stupid seventh year decided he was too soft. Hadrian would understand. He would. He had too.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Hadrian was not sulking, no really he wasn’t! He was simply reflecting rather moodily while feeling rather sorry for himself, there was a difference.

Hadrian could admit that he had rather enjoyed the last two months of his summer. After the fire Hadrian had had come to the realization. He needed to change, he needed to grow up.

This might seem a tad unrealistic to others, Hadrian at the time was only 10 years old, and one would not expect a child that age to have to contend with the harsh realities of the world. However, they had not grown up needing to contend with such things. Hadrian had. Realizing just how close he had come to losing more than just his belongings had been a wakeup call. After he had waded through his rage and overwhelming grief of loosing what he prized most in the world (his books), Hadrian had begun to plot his revenge. Plot he did and it was well worth the effort. He still smiled at the memory.

It could be said that the fire was a tipping point, or perhaps more aptly a breaking point. Up until this time he had still been harboring a sense of restraint, a dependence on what Matron Madix deemed kindness, right vs. wrong. The fire changed that. He had woken up, realized that right vs. wrong did not mean anything. Experience after experience had proven this. No matter what Hadrian did, no matter how many times he ‘turned the other cheek’ so to speak, he still was punished; still hurt, still shoved aside. Well no more.

If dirty muggles could hurt him, he would no longer have any qualms about returning the favor. And that applied to everyone not just the muggles; no one would hurt him again, at least not without being hurt themselves. He knew Iztal wondered at this change, but he didn’t dig. This was fine with Hadrian. Because despite his new outlook in life, the one person who it didn’t apply to, the one person that it would never apply to was Iztal. Like Hadrian was to Iztal, Iztal was the same to Hadrian; he was the exception to the rules.

This is why once again Hadrian found himself staring dejectedly out the train window, trying to concentrate on the scenry flashing by rather then the twisting, stabbing feeling in his gut. Iztal had been wonderful over the summer. After a short awkward period at the start of the summer, things slipped back to how they’d always been. It was as if they had never been apart. Iztal had laughed more, been gentler, more attentive towards him this summer. Hadrian had been secretly thrilled with this new warmth from the older boy.

However the moment they had entered the train station it was like a switch had gone off. The warm, happy Iztal had vanished; in his place was a cold caricature of his friend. Hadrian was used to the mask Iztal showed others, but this was the first time he had used the mask against Hadrian. There hadn’t been the discrete but reassuring nudge of his shoulder, or barely visible shine in his eye to tell Hadrian that this was indeed a mask and that Iztal was just performing. No, when Hadrian had looked for these signs all he was met with was ice.

Iztal had walked with him to the train and had all but abandoned him once they had boarded. Telling him that Hadrian needed to meet up with ‘kids’ his ‘own age,’ before leaving to find the compartment with his own year mates. Hadrian had been somewhat shocked as he watched his friend’s retreating back. It was only after Hadrian had found an empty compartment near the end of the train did he allow some of his despair and hurt to break through his mask. That had been 2 hours ago, now he had resigned himself to the fact that Iztal had once again left him. Really, he mentally kicked himself, he should have expected it.

His mental anguish was interrupted by the sound of his compartment door sliding open. He turned trying to bat down the stupid hope that perhaps Iztal had changed his mind and the ice he had witnessed was gone. Even though he knew how unlikely it was it did not stop him from feeling disappointed when instead of Iztal’s tall willowy frame, there was a stocky, rather dirty looking redheaded boy peering in.

Hadrian kept his facial feature neutral, not showing the disdain he felt blossoming in his gut at the boy’s appearance. Hadrian may not have been well off, but even HE knew the importance of appearances, something this boy had obviously missed, if the dirt on his nose was telling. Hadrian raised an eye brow at the boy in question to why his solitude was being invaded.

The redhead appeared oblivious to the diswelcome. “Oi! Great a near empty compartment, George n’ Fred are driven me batty. They won’t leave poor Scabbers alone!” he declared holding up a fat rat while plopping himself in the seat across from Hadrian. Hadrian could not help wrinkling his nose in distaste at the rat being thrust in his direction.

Once again the boy ignored the obvious clues of contempt from his compartment partner. “My name’s Ron, Ron Weasley. I’m going into first year! Fred, my brother told me the first years have to camp in the woods this year cause Peeves, that’s the poltergeist, let loose a bunch of Dobhar-chu’s in the first year dorm rooms….oh and I heard Harry Potter’s in are year too. I mean I wonder what he’s like? Bet he’s all brave and strong and stuff….I heard that when he was like 2 years old that he strangled a dragon with his bare hands!...oh wait….maybe that was Hercules…huh well anyway I can’t WAIT to meet him. We are going to be the best of friends, I just know it...” The boy, (apparently Ron) rambled away, only pausing to scratch his nose every now and then.

Hadrian stared at the boy in disbelief. Was this kid retarded? Seriously, how stupid could you be? A toddler strangling a dragon, believing that the school would allow a poltergeist to displace their new students, his almost stalker like fascination with Harry Potter. Honestly, Hadrian had hoped that wizarding children were smarter than their muggle counterparts, something that he had been led to believe by his association with Iztal and even Draco.

Sure, Draco was pretentious, snooty and spoiled but at least he showed a modicum of intelligence compared to the kid sitting across from him, now rambling on about his disgusting pet rat. Hadrian did not know whether or not he would rather physically chuck Ron from the compartment or simply stun himself so as not to have to listen anymore.

He almost felt sorry for Harry Potter, god if he had to tolerate people like this he deserved Hadrian’s sympathy. Well Hadrian thought to himself while his own life might suck, and Iztal might be acting like an ass, at least he wouldn’t be forced to deal with brainless sycophantic fans like Harry Potter. Thank god for that.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Draco sent his best disdainful, haughty sneer he could muster towards the Weasel. The idiot responded by baring his teeth, honestly was he a primate? Draco simply sniffed and turned to scan the rest of the first years until his eyes landed on the person he was searching for. He let a small, genuine smile grace his lips as he spotted the dark, tousled hair and poker straight posture of his friend.

“Hadrian! There you are. I’ve looked everywhere for you on the train” Draco cried out, a slightly pouty tint to his voice. He did not appreciate not finding his friend at his convenience. He was a Malfoy, after all.

His rather exuberant greeting was rewarded with the arching of his friend’s eyebrow and a small indulgent smile. “Draco” Hadrian greeted inclining his hid briefly in acknowledgment, “you’re looking well”.

Draco beamed at the compliment. Somehow, he wasn’t quite sure how or even when it had happened, but somehow the power between them had shifted. At the start of their ‘friendship,’ he had been the one in control, the one allowing Hadrian to associate with HIM. Now however, it was he that was seeking out Hadrian’s attention and approval, something that Draco did not do with anyone except perhaps his father. He could not explain why exactly he felt the need to impress and please the smaller boy, he just did.

“Thank-you, father bought me a new set of robes of course” Draco replied. Secretly Draco wished his father would acknowledge him outside of buying him new clothes or trinkets, but this was something he would rather die than admit.

“Of course” Hadrian replied, still smiling irritatingly knowing at the blond haired boy.

“You’ve grown out your hair! It looks good, I missed seeing you over the summer” Draco admitted the last shyly.

Hadrian ignored the boys bashful smile deciding to answer the first part of the statement instead, “yes, I figured since my hair refuses to cooperate when it’s short, that having it long will at least permit me to tie it back, how was your summer anyway?”

In truth, being able to make his hair lay flat had very little to do with the fact that Hadrian had let his hair grow out. For one he had learned from his book that traditional old pure blood families heir often had long hair, denoting their status, something that if he could fake even a little would help in the long run, secondly having long hair allowed for him to hide the abysmal scar on his forehead. He did not know why but something in his gut told him that this was a good idea. His gut instinct had yet to fail him so he decided to go with it.

Hadrian half listened to Draco describe in detail of exactly where he had gone that summer while scanning the huge banquet hall ahead of them. The hall was broken into four, extremely long crowded tables, each with a different banner above. Hadrian could only assume that students were sitting in their designated houses. He tried to spot Iztal at the table underneath the green and silver serpent banner but didn’t see him, he sighed again to himself. He really had to get better control of himself; he would NOT be the one to apologize this time. If Iztal did not want to be friends anymore, then fine, he would not crawl back begging.

Forcing himself to abandon his search he turned his attention to the different houses instead. He was hoping for Slytherin, or at least Ravenclaw. He shuddered at the thought of being placed in Hufflepuff or even worse Gryffindor. From what he had gathered so far, Gryffs where loud, nosey, impulsive and reckless, definitely not people he wanted as dorm mates. Hufflepuff’s were much to warm and caring, he would probably choke to death on the saccrine if he was placed there. He thought he could probably tolerate Ravenclaw, they valued knowledge almost as much as he did, but no, the cold, manipulative power struggle is where he really belonged, and not just because Iztal was in that house.

“I hope I’m in Gryffindor, my brothers would kill me if I’m not” Ron said aloud to no one in particular as the group of firsties waited impatiently for sorting. Professor McGonagall had already come and given them her little spiel on the houses and what to expect with sorting. She had been strict, straight to the point with relay of her facts and rules, but Hadrian noticed that her eyes had been scrunched with worry as she discreetly scanned their group, almost as if searching for someone. Hadrian could only assume she was looking for the famous Harry Potter, as it would appear he had not shown after all. Hadrian was secretly relieved with this fact he had not wanted to deal with a big headed child star. Though he was probably rich and therefore would have made a good mark.

Draco sneered at Ron, “What other house would a Weasel land in, seriously your lot have enough to start your own house”

Ron’s face turned crimson, “Shut it, Malfoy, your just a dirty sneaky git, Slytherin would be perfect for you, it being full of dirty snakes” he spat back.

Hadrian fought the impulse to laugh, really the how juvenile could they get? Their insults barely cut at all; that was not how you gutted someone. Before he was forced to intercede between the steadily increasing argument, McGonagall had returned and had begun to call out their names one by one. Hadrian quickly became bored with this and turned his attention back to the magnificence that was the great hall. The ceiling was amazing, it twinkled merrily overhear with the nights stars.

A bushy hair girl he was pretty sure was named Hermione, noticed his attention on the ceiling above and sidled up to him, “Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”

Hadrian had of course already known this, having read the book himself but decided not to say so. After all he could appreciate someone who wanted to share knowledge however misguided she may be. So he simply gave a nod and brief smile before turning back to the sorting hat. Shortly after the girl, who was indeed called Hermione was called up and placed in Ravenclaw, not that that was all that surprising.

“Jameson, Hadrian” Professor McGonagall read out. Hadrian made his way gracefully to the stool and sat down, careful to keep the nerves he was feeling masked. He stubbornly refused to look at the Slytherins table, not wanting to see Iztal’s blank face. He gingerly picked up the rather dirty hat and placed it on his head. Immediately a voice sounded around him, almost as if it were inside his skull rather than simply inside the hat.

“Ahhhh….what have we here….hmmm interesting mix if I do say so myself. Undeniably brilliant, thirst for learning and knowledge…Ravenclaw is not a bad spot, but no. Your want of power is much stronger, that and you have already reinvented yourself more than once, name and all. Yes very Slytherin indeed. Well there is only one thing for it….” The voice contemplated inside his head.

What? Reinvented himself, name and all what was this blasted thing going on about?

“SLYTHERIN” the hat shouted out.

Hadrian stood from the stool and walked head high towards the green and silver table, ignoring the small, tentative smattering of applause. That was fine; he did not expect to be welcome with open arms despite his friendship or rather previous friendship with Iztal. They did not expect much from him; even Iztal underestimated him, seeing him as the weaker more fragile of the two. Good.

So much the better when he proved just how wrong they all were. He allowed a small, vicious looking smile to grace his lips as he settled down into a seat near another first year.

Let the games begin. He could not wait


	7. The art of revenge

** Chapter 6: The art of revenge **

_“We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged” ―_ [ _Heinrich Heine_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16071.Heinrich_Heine)

**Finally** he thought to himself, well almost himself, but Quirrel really did not count so in his opinion he was indeed the sole participant in this mental discussion. It had been so long, years really since he had the pleasure of having a body. One would not think being separated from their physical being was not only so painful, but so bloody irritating.

Oh Voldmort could accept pain, he had after all not had the easiest of childhoods, so he could accept it with little consequence but the feeling of being absolutely helpless and dependant on others to survive, to accomplish what he needed to accomplish, was unacceptable. And while he was still at the mercy of others, at least now that he was possessing the stupid, naïve defense against the dark arts teacher he had some control, limited it may be.

It infuriated him that he was forced to this, this weak thing and all thanks to THAT man. He did not think it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Albus Dumbledore. While he had always held a large amount of dislike towards the ridiculously dressed wizard it was the fact that Dumbledore had out maneuvered him that brought this dislike to full out hatred.

Voldmort had always prided himself on being intellectually superior to all those around him. Yes, he also took a great deal of pride in his immense magical strength but it was his mind that was his real treasure. Deep down he knew he was partly to blame for the degradation of this intellect. But then again he had already recognized this prior to that blasted night; he had recognized (not without a little difficulty) and begun to take steps to correct it. Yes, he can admit now that the Hocruxes, especially in the number he had made them were a mistake. Well at least all that came after his first anyway. They had slowly, innocuously chipped away at his sanity turning him into a sick caricature of what he had once been. A shell of a man, driven solely on the need to shed blood and cause pain.

The event, the thing, that had snapped him out of this blinding need for destruction had occurred 2 and ½ years prior to that fateful night. It had not changed him instantaneously, but slowly it had brought him back to sanity. It had brought him back to his original plans at creating a world were dark magic was once again worshipped and revered. Back to the ideals of his youth, the need to protect all those with magic from discovery at the hands of those filthy muggles. Even in the 1950’s muggles were advancing at a fast enough pace that Tom recognized the imminent danger they posed if they were ever to discover magic. It had been this need at prevention that had spear headed his initial goals. Early on he had played on the pure blood’s prejudices to increase his ranks, but that had not been his main objective.

No, the revitalization of their dying magic had been the number one goal, and then he had gone and ruined it with a misguided desire for immortality. He was not saying he did not still have this urge to skirt death, but it was now tempered with the knowledge that there was a fate worse than death…insanity.

Albus had set his plans up perfectly. He had fed the right spies the right information, ensuring that Tom heard it and became curious, but not suspicious. Not something easily done given how paranoid a he was. But Albus had accomplished just this, never once did Tom stop to think it might be a trap, looking back he could not believe how foolish he had been.

He mentally snorted at his past actions. To believe that James and Lily Potter would be willing to change sides. Monumentally stupid. They out of all Dumbledore’s pets had been some of the most blindly loyal. To think this had resulted in their own deaths, well that is what they got for placing their beliefs in a man who was more cunning and ruthless then even Voldmort had suspected.

He had gone that evening full of confidence and certainty that by the end of the night he would have another family in his pocket and most importantly a family perfectly posed to become the spies he so desired. It was this desire to outwit Albus that had caused him to dismiss his gut instinct, to take heed of its warning. He had arrived at the house, and naturally had not received the warmest of welcomes. Still he had planned on stunning and oblivating them; they did have a small child after all. And after his own childhood and his own more recent secret he had no wish to leave the child parentless.

He was in the process of doing just that, when HE had shown up. Events happened so quickly that it took years with nothing to do but think on that night to sort out what happened next. Albus had engaged him in a duel. It had been one of the most violent and vicious duels he could recall having, as Albus was actually on par with him magically and skill wise. Somehow during the duel, James Potter was downed whether by his or Albus’s curses he really couldn’t say, not that he really care all that much except for congruency to events.

Lily had fled upstairs with the child, a tiny unnaturally silent thing clutched in her grasp. Albus for reasons Tom had yet to discern had moved to follow her. In his own duel induced rage, Tom had followed. They had continued their fight, and Lily, a fine dueler in her own right had forgone her wand in a foolish attempt to shield her son from the flying curses, only to be slain instead.

Then it had happened. Albus had shot an Aveda Kedavra at him when he was distracted by the first wail of the child and it had hit him square in the chest.

Thanks to preparations he had made over the years the curse had not killed him instead merely ripping his soul from his body and then, for some reason rebounding and striking the toddler who was now clinging to the crib side wailing at the silence from his mother. After that all Tom can recall is insurmountable pain. By the time he had managed to overcome the pain, there was nothing left. And well the rest they would say was history.

So, yes through an unlikely chain of events he had been forced to spend tens years as nothing but a wretched spirit, wandering between the astral plain and the mortal one. Not pleasant to say the least. Now though he had a body (though shared) and a plan for return. He did of course now have one more obstacle in defeating Albus and being free to play out his full plans. The child.

He had never seen the child as more than an accident, certainly not a threat but he was far past the point of underestimating Dumbledore. Albus had had the child for the past ten years, likely carefully training and molding it so that it would become his perfect little warrior. A mantel for the light to hang their hopes and dreams on. He had no doubt that Harry Potter was completely brain washed and warped, far too gone for Tom to sway at this point. So yes that was just one more thing for him to have to eliminate.

If not for his own secret, he might have ignored this and simply let the boy bring upon his own destruction, but he would allow NO one the chance to poison or hurt what was his. He felt physically ill at the thought of what had happened to his after he had been banished. Few had known about this secret. Bellatrix Lestrange and her brother were the only two others that had. Gairth Lestrange had been killed 2 months prior to that Halloween night, and he had found out later that Bella had been sent to Azkaban. The thought of what had happened to his was almost enough to reintroduce the insane need for bloodshed.

He had lost track of where his secret was, being unaware of the world for the first year after the attack had contributed to this, but now that he was back he would find him. And he refused to let anyone, Albus Dumbledore, his light sided sycophants or even Harry Potter get in the way.


	8. The art of observation

** Chapter 7: The Art of observation  **

_To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe.” ―_ [ _Marilyn Vos Savant_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/44295.Marilyn_Vos_Savant)

Hermione had always been a curious child. Most people who thought they knew her would state that she was a bookworm, completely and totally absorbed in wonders of literature. They would only be partially correct, while Hermione did indeed have a strong kinship with the written language, it was learning that she adored. Really she did not particularly care were this learning came from.

Hermione figured that she had developed the habit of watching other people interact mainly because she was not entirely sure of how to go about doing so herself. She always seemed to scare others away. Those her own age could not understand wanting to read rather then play, those older than her thought her a insolent, precocious child, simply because she generally knew more than them. Well at least SHE thought she did. She had never met another person her age who could match her intellect. This was why she found Hadrian Jameson fascinating.

She first took notice of him during sorting. While all the other children scoffed at her rattling of facts, he had listened and even given her a SMILE. For a girl who generally only received negative reactions to her relaying of facts, this had caused her to take an instant liking to her quiet classmate.

She was mildly disappointed when he was not sorted into Ravenclaw with her, this had caused her a moment of doubt, maybe he wasn’t that clever? Maybe he had only smiled at her out of pity or worse in mocking. This fear did not last longer than a day however. Once they had started class, her question of his intellect was solved.

Hermione had never before been envious of one’s intellect. Sure she had harbored jealousy over Amanda from 3rd grade’s perfect blond hair, or the nice, trendy new clothes other children wore (her parents were much too practical to indulge their daughters need for ‘cool, Trendy clothing’). Not that that desire had lasted more than a year, Hermione had come to appreciate things more important than appearance at a fairly young age.

Therefore Hermione could not help but be surprised by the mix of admiration, hopefulness and jealousy she experienced during the first years first Transfiguration class. Hermione had taken an instant liking to the prim and proper deputy headmistress. Professor McGonagall’s strict demeanor had quickly quelled the irritating pranksters and fools in the class (if there was one thing Hermione despised more it was people interfering with a learning opportunity). Professor McGonagall had explained the theory and purpose behind transfiguration and then given them all toothpicks with the instructions to try and transfigure them into needles.

The explanation and voice she had used let them know that she really did not expect any of them to be able to do so in their first class. This unspoken assumption had lit Hermione’s desire to prove her wrong, and she had found herself frustrated when her tooth pick would not cooperate.

This frustration only grew when she looked up to see Hadrian sitting primly, back poker straight in his desk with his hands neatly folded in front of him. At that point all she could think was that her suspicions at his sorting were correct. She knew she had been too hopeful for a like minded classmate; he wasn’t even TRYING to do what the teacher asked him too! Just sitting there with his toot….oh! Sowing needle in front of him.

She had strained to see the now silver needle and noted that not only had he changed the tooth pick but that he had added little embellishments to it. Professor McGonagall was thrilled and had even given him a small smile, something that Hermione got the feeling rarely happened. She, herself had managed to change her toothpick at the end of class, but her’s was a plain silver needle. At that point she decided she would watch him closer. It could have been a fluke after all.

But no as the week continued so did Hadrian’s flawless show of skill. Practically all the teachers were impressed, tripping over themselves to compliment him on his magical knowledge and give him tips on how to do things they were not to be taught yet. Well except Quirrel and Snape, it was hard to tell of what either was truly feeling. Quirrel due to the fact that he seemed scared of a student even holding a wand, Snape because it was hard to read anything but disdain from his permanent facial scowl.

It was this superior performance in class, paired with the fact that he was always carrying a book with him that had made Hermione decide that he was going to be her friend.

……………………………………………

Steeling herself, Hermione resolutely ignored the nervous fluttering in gut as she approached the library table piled high with books. Hadrian sat amongst several large volumes seemingly absorbed in whatever he was reading. She was pretty sure it was something that had not been assigned for class.

She walked up to the table, stopping so that she stood directly in front of him. After a long minute, he raised his head, his piercing green eyes studying her, as if she was an interesting insect.

“Can I help you?” Hadrian asked in a surprisingly soft voice.

“I-I was wondering if I could share your table?” Hermione asked tentatively. She met his intense gaze stubbornly. She had made up her mind on this she was NOT going to be intimidated or back down.

He seemed to gleam this from his appraisal and eventually sighed looking somewhat resigned before gesturing at one of the chairs. “Please”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a small spark of triumph, and quickly settled into the chair before he could change his mind. “What are you reading?” she asked curiously.

“A book on the Rök Runestone” Hadrian answered without looking up.

“But, isn’t that something studied in ancient ruins? That’s at least 3rd year material!” Hermione exclaimed. She certainly hadn’t been made aware they could study it before 3rd year.

“Yes, I know” Hadrian answered simply turning back to his book.

Sensing she wasn’t going to get any further information out of him, Hermione sighed with frustration and dug out her own ‘light’ reading. Hadrian Jameson was a puzzle. And there was nothing that could stop Hermione from solving a puzzle. Nothing.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Severus paused briefly at the door of his potions classroom to banish the most recent cause of irritation from his mind before having to face the little first year monsters. Some days, he really hated his life. He had just come from a ‘chat’ with the old manipulative coot. A chat that was a complete waste of time, centered yet again on finding the missing golden child.

This irked Severus to no end. Albus had been holding these ridicules meetings for months now. He had insisted on ruining the few weeks of peace Severus had from this wretched place with organizing ‘search parities’ throughout the summer. Severus fumed at this. It was a complete waste of time, the child had vanished. He was gone. While he would admit this to no one, Severus’s heart clenched at the thought.

No, he could really care less about the child, he had no doubt that he would have been as annoying and arrogant as his father, but as loathe as he was to admit he was also HER child. When Albus had told him that he had ‘misplaced’ Harry Potter (not that he had admitted any fault in the occurrence) Severus had felt the last of his world shatter. He had no illusions that he could have ever grown to love the child, much less like it, but it had been the reason for his continued existence.

It was the one promise he had made because of Lily; to protect her son no matter what happened. It had given him reason to continue on at Hogwarts, to continue following Albus. And now because of Albus he had lost that reason. He had failed in his promise, just as he had all those years before.

Severus was realistic; he knew that if they had not found the child by now that the chance that Harry was still alive was slim. If he was he would have shown up at Hogwarts. That was why having to sit across from THAT man, while everyone offered up pointless platitudes and useless suggestions was so grating.

He was a dark wizard, dammit. And the last reason that had anchored him to the light was now missing. What a mess.

He took one more deep breath and swept into the classroom, drawing a small amount of pleasure at the stiffening postures and terrified expressions adorning first year Gryffindor and Slytherins faces at the sight of the feared professor.

“Ah well“ he thought to himself “at least not ALL is wrong in the world”.

 


	9. The art of creation

** Chapter 8: Art of Creation  **

_“Human history is a Gaian dream.” ―_ [ _Terence McKenna_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9243.Terence_McKenna)

Most people thought magic was a simply another force of nature. One would think that beings that had been gifted with it would not be so simple minded, but alas it wasn’t so. Magic was not just something that happened to exist in wizards, witches and all other sorts of creatures no she was sentient. She went by many names, certain muggles called her Mother Earth, ancient Greek wizards deemed her Gaia, ancient indigenous witches called her Nokomis, what name she went by really did not matter. To her ‘magic’ suited just fine.

She was without doubt the one of the most powerful of beings in existence, far more so then the many semi-gods that muggles, wizards and creatures worshipped. She was also something of an odd spirit. Some might call her a prankster; others might state she simply enjoyed chaos. But this wasn’t so; well not completely anyhow. Sure she enjoyed stirring things up every now and again; existing for forever could become rather boring after all. In her earlier years she might have played a hand in a situation involving an apple tree and a woman named Eve, and perhaps she had planted the idea of constructing a giant wooden horse with a Trojan stable boy. But small wars aside, she had matured. She had come to realize the importance of certain things.

There was one thing that she did not disregard or push aside on whimsy. That was her own survival, all magic, no matter what form it be or what way it manifested was part of her dominion, her kingdom. And right now it was all in terrible danger.

She had sat back long enough, she had thought that allowing these ants who called themselves light and dark lords battle it out would be entertaining. That had been her mistake. She had underestimated their pure arrogance and stupidity and because of that the very magic she had blessed them with was in danger of going extinct.

These supposed lords had dipped their wands into things that they should have left be, they were playing with fate and the natural order. This was not meant to be. Fate was a vengeful bitch and when messed with she would not hesitate to retaliate. As much as Magic hated to admit, Fate was the one force she feared. So now she was scrambling to set things right before the insignificant little bugs totally screwed her over. Magic was not meant to exist as purely a light or dark force. It was meant to be both. How the two lords could not recognize this was beyond her.

Yes, she needed to create a third side to this silly war, a neutral side, a side devoted solely to the power of magic, regardless of its origination. Luckily for her she had an eye on one that could successfully lead just such a side. Yes, she had found her heir. He was magnificent. Such untapped potential. Such a cunningly quiet façade he sported. No one would see him coming. Yes, Hadrian Jameson was perfect. Now that she had officially let the name and mantle of Harry Potter die, from those ashes would rise not Light’s savior, not dark’s successor, no from those ashes Magic’s heir would be born.

It was the only way to save her.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“And just what do you think you are doing?” Iztal’s voice was soft, the tone sweet and unassuming. Though only those that did not know Iztal, or know how things worked inside Slytherin would ever be fooled into thinking so.

“I-I d-don’t know my p-prince, i-it was a m-mistake” the third year stammered a look of pure terror on his face at the thought that he had angered their now unchallenged Prince of Slytherin. While the third year was physically larger and older than their prince there was no questioned whom was the one wielding the power at the moment.

“And what makes you say that, Keizen?” Iztal asked his tone even, not betraying the obvious anger in his eyes.

2 months had passed since the start of school, and while many of the older Slytherins had last year been resentful of their young Prince, his unwavering power and discipline, not to mention quick to retaliate demeanor had long since quelled the nay-sayers. It was no question; you did not want to be the one that attracted their prince’s wrath. And wrath there had been. Their prince was colder, more vicious and much quicker to anger this year than last. Most failed to see the correlation to the arrival of their newest Slytherin. Hadrian Jameson. Indeed few of those inside or outside their house knew of the boys past or once close relationship.

While some may have noted that while Iztal was angrier and more prone to punishing for the most minimal of infractions, he never once turned his attentions to the small dark haired enigma. Then again most did not notice, for Hadrian Jameson had done remarkably well at becoming mostly invisible when he was in or around his house mates. A few less clever Slytherins had turned their negative attention to the boy when he had first entered the house, seeing his small stature, un-recognized last name and had wrongly assumed they had found an easy target.

They were quickly proven wrong. Not only did the smaller boy have the unwavering defense of one Draco Malfoy (who in himself was laughable but given his family name and thereby the association with real power was a real threat), but Hadrian himself was no slouch in defending himself. And he did so in the most Slytherin of ways. No one could ever prove anything, but all those stupid enough to antagonize the boy spent a good few days getting familiar with the hospital wing. All of them refused to say what happened or how, but they all gave the boy a wide berth after that.

If people chose to look underneath the quiet, introverted face of Hadrian Jameson they would have discovered he had magical strength and fortitude to rival their current prince, the difference was that he did not want to rule but just to be left alone. Iztal however was much less hesitant in demonstrating his own significant power and knowledge, maintaining a rather iron fist of control over the house.

When the terrified boy did not answer Iztal continued to speak, slowly circling Keizen like a true predator. Truth be told he was worse than most predators. Keizen, a promising student in the dark arts himself did not dare to follow his prince’s movements. “What is the first rule of Slytherin? Have you forgotten already?”

“N-no m-my prince…” Keizen voice cracked; still he remained face turned towards the floor, kneeling in subjugation before his professed Prince.

“Look at me, Keizen and answer my question. WHAT IS THE FIRST RULE?” Iztal demanded, only adding stress to his last sentence, ice blue eyes cold and unpitying.

“Wh-what happens i-in Slytherin s-stays in Slytherin” Keizen whispered, again regretting opening his mouth in favor of trying to win the favor of his long time crush and gossip queen, Lavender Brown.

“Yes. That is correct…so it would seem as though you did NOT forget but merely decided to dismiss this rule….and to a mudblooded Gryffindor of all people. Tell me Keizen are you truly more loyal to one of questionable heritage then too those in your own house?” Iztal asked softly, coming to a stop behind Keizen. If any of the housemates were thinking of questioning Iztal’s own heritage they did not dare voice it. They had learned better.

“N-no o-of course not! I was s-stupid, I w-was not thinking! Please forgive me my prince!” Keizen cried out unashamed that he was desperately groveling at the feet of not yet thirteen year old. He may have made a stupid mistake but overall he was not stupid, he recognized power when he was it.

“Very well, this is your first infraction. Prove to your house by the end of the month were your true loyalties lie and perhaps you will be granted this forgiveness you so desperately want” Iztal stated pausing to smile viciously at the obvious relief donning Keizen’s face when the boy thought he had escaped punishment for his transgressions. “However…you have still broken the rules Keizen and for that you will need to be punished, is that not fair?”

Keizen knew it was better to graciously accept whatever his Prince deemed as his punishment then to be left to the house of sharks, all of whom were eager to prove their own loyalty and allegiance to their prince through him. “Y-yes of course m-my prince” Keizen answered.

“ _Doloraddo”_ Iztal said calmly his yew wand pointed at the boy. This curse was essentially a slightly lighter version of the cruciatus, it basic meaning, ‘to cause pain.’ It was of course undetectable to the Hogwarts’ wards. Iztal watched dispassionately as the boy screamed on the floor in front of him.

No one moved or jumped to intercede, a few looked pale, but more looked gleeful at what they no doubt felt was suitable punishment for betraying the house, to a Gryffindor of all people.

The sound of the common room door opening caused everyone, Iztal included to look up, although he maintained the curse while doing so. Iztal looked up to see the tense form of Hadrian staring accusingly at him.

“A moment?” Hadrian’s ice cold voice sent shivers down many of the on looker’s spines, especially those who had been witness to his anger before. All those hospital wing visitors were immensely glad that the murderous gaze he was leveling was at the only other individual they feared in the room and not them.

The onlookers watched with a morbid fascination as someone dared to speak to their prince while he was doling out punishment. This was just something you did not do; Iztal did not appreciate being interrupted by anyone.

Iztal had lifted his wand following Hadrian’s entrance but had not lowered it from position at Keizen.

The on lookers were both surprised and perhaps a little disappointed when Iztal finally lowered it and gave Hadrian a terse nod towards the common room door, indicating that he agreed and whatever needed to be said would not be done so in front of witnesses. The most sadistic of the group relished the thought that this meant Hadrian’s punishment was so bad that not even they, as Slytherins could witness it. The rest were just glad to have Iztal’s focus on someone other than themselves and quickly directed their attention back to what they had been doing prior to Iztal’s discovery of Keizen’s mistake.

Iztal had to give credit to Hadrian, never once did the boy’s gaze waver or show any form of apprehension as he followed his former best friend out of the dorm room. When they had walked far enough away from the entrance to the common room and to a space that was void of portraits (this was Dumbledore’s castle, neither of the boys trusted the man further then Ron’s hand me down broom could travel) Iztal turned to confront Hadrian. He stared expectantly at the boy, finally raising an eyebrow at the other’s silence before giving in, “Well?” he was careful to keep his voice cold and impatient.

In truth he could not stop that treacherous feeling in his gut, one he could only identify as a mixture of shame, guilt and happiness. He was disgusted at himself, all this because Hadrian had finally deemed to break his resentful silence and speak with him. Truly he was pathetically weak, had he not told Hadrian time and again that feelings were weak? And here he was acting like some pathetic Hufflepuff. The irony.

“Why?” Hadrian asked and though Iztal could tell the boy was striving for a cold, indifferent tone, he knew him to well to be fooled. He could tell that this one word was voicing all of the betrayal, loneliness, confusion and hurt over Iztal’s actions and words towards the younger boy.

“Why not?” Iztal forced himself to say back, this time successful in wiping his face of emotion, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to apologize instead. He couldn’t, he WOULD not allow himself the weakness of caring for someone. Well he amended, perhaps that was too late, but he could at the very least act like he didn’t. He forced to look into those emerald eyes, the eyes that had once looked at him in devotion but now only held hurt and betrayal.

“You know, I don’t even know you anymore, Kurou. I don’t recognize what you are becoming, something so twisted, I’m not sure you even recognize yourself” Hadrian voice shook, anger replacing hurt. Iztal felt like someone had kicked him in the gut when he heard the distance that fell over them at his last name coming out of Hadrian’s mouth.

“You don’t know anything about me, Jameson” he spit back, irrational anger at the loss of familiarity that first names allowed, “You honestly think you ever did?”

Hadrian stared at him for a long quiet minute before answering, this time filled with sadness which was almost ten times worse than the cold anger from before, “no, I guess I really didn’t.” With that he spun and walked quickly and silently away from the stone still figure of Iztal.

 **What have you done?!** The insufferable voice in his head screamed at the older boy, Iztal closed his eyes allowing for one last moment of weakness, **what have I done?**

So caught up in themselves were the two boys that neither noticed an extra pair of eyes watching silently from the shadows.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

He had not even meant to witness the disagreement; really he had only caught the very end of it.

No, he had been on his way back from yet another interrogation from Severus. Really if he was not trying to be discreet that man would be writhing on the floor for his impertinence.

So angered was he at this latest irritation he had not sensed it until it was almost too late. But thankfully he had. He had felt HIM. The coincidence of finding him here of all places was astronomical.

He had of course searched the crowd of young boys when he first arrived this year but with the large number of magical signatures presented in a crowd, whether the great hall or in a classroom it had escaped his notice. He could not really even determine for certain which grade HE would have been in… had he been accelerated or heaven forbid held back a year? No, it did not take long for despair to set in when he had failed to find HIM the first few weeks.

But now, NOW he had found that magic, the magic he would recognize anywhere. It was right in front of him. In the form of the two terse, softly speaking boys. Not wanting to be mistaken he had quickly shrunk into the shadows to watch.

Yes, he was certain it was one of them, but which one? He had planned to wait until they were alone and see if he could identify the feeling of HIS magic that way. Unfortunately once again his plan was thwarted. And once again it was thanks to Severus, who had most inopportunely decided to start his hall rounds.

Damn that man! He was so close! He had waited so long….so long for him. To find him again.

Sighing Voldmort, and in extension Quirrel pushed down his impatience and irritation before quietly removing himself to his own chambers. He had at least narrowed it down to the two; Hadrian Jameson or Iztal Kuruo. He had been patient for a decade he could be patient a little while longer.

He could be patient. Now that he had found HIM.


	10. The art of denial

** Chapter 9: The art of Denial  **

_“Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.”_ ― [_Sara Gruen_](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/24556.Sara_Gruen) _,_[ _Water for Elephants_](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3441236)

Following his confrontation with Iztal Hadrian had fled. He could not handle having to speak or face anyone, especially Iztal. Underneath the swells of anger, hurt and embarrassment Hadrian felt a small sliver of pride. He had done it, he had held his own and not backed down, begging for Iztal to take him back. He had held himself together, even though the entire time he felt like he was a moment from shattering.

It was different then all of the other abandonment he had faced in his short life. Sure his birth parents had apparently not wanted him, sure the orphanage caretakers had turned on him as soon as they had found out he was different, yes every child he had ever encountered in his youth had either avoided or tormented him, but it was different; he had not cared about any of them. And loath as he was to admit it, he cared a great deal for Iztal.

Even after he had told himself he did not care anymore, that emotions were weakness he could not fool himself, he still did. So it was with the singular goal of disappearing, of getting away that he had found himself wandering the seventh floor of Hogwarts. It was almost as if something or someone had heard him and allowed for him to find it.

While he was fleeing from his thoughts he stumbled past a door that he had never seen before. This might not be so surprising considering Hogwarts WAS a castle, and a rather large one at that. It was not unusual for Hogwarts to have disappearing rooms or moving staircases; really hardly anything was odd or bizarre when it came to the old fortress. So, while it might not surprise a majority of the students it did in fact surprise Hadrian.

Hadrian was in possession of more than an incredibly logical brain and unusually powerful magical core, he also happened to possess what some would call an eidetic memory. And because of this Hadrian knew that this door had not been here before. Despite his current emotional turmoil, curiosity won over and Hadrian found himself entering a large room. A room that resembled a mix of a dueling, martial arts studio and a library.

To the left there was a large dueling platform, dummies set up every few feet. Hadrian found them a little unnerving, as they were all placed so that it looked as if they were staring at him, almost as if they had been waiting to greet him. Shaking feelings of paranoia away, Hadrian turned to study the remainder of the room. Along with the platform and dummies, there was a large expanse of floor covered in mats; Hadrian would guess it was an area for hand to hand combat. On the right side of the room stood a comfortable looking chair, a small round table, and several dozen bookshelves filled to their maximum capacity.

The room was perfect. It was just what he needed right now. A private place where he could let himself go, let the anger out, a place where he could hide. And that is what he did.

Hadrian spent the next several hours, blasting then repairing then blasting apart the dummies, casting every curse and violent hex he could remember reading. Considering he was only a first year, his spell repertoire was actually fairly advanced. Many of the curses he threw at the humanoid shapes were either too strong or not done quite right, but that was okay. Hadrian did not mind. Right now he was not worried as he normally was with perfect technique or balance, right now he just wanted exhaustion.

It took sometime but finally he managed to gain control of himself, and dripping head to toe in sweat, muscles aching, he eventually made his way over to study the contents of the books shelves.

And what he found there would in fact determine to course of the upcoming war.

Hadrian was almost upset that he had spent some much time with the fight dummies when he saw the contents of the bookshelf. Title after title were on the subject that he had questioned most, the one thing that he had failed to find a solid answer to. All of the books in one way or another were on magic.

You might say that any book in Hogwarts was on magic, but no these books were not on spells or defense or even magical creatures these books were on pure, simple magic. Some were detailed histories on the origins of what wizards called magic; others were on the actual force itself. How to access it, to communicate with it, to free it from its constraints, to maximize it. Hadrian was awe struck.

There were books on the difference between light vs. dark, on elemental and spiritual. Really there was more information here then Hadrian could have hoped for. Why was it here of all places? Why were there no copies in Hogwarts library or in any of the bookstore he had visited? How could a treasure like this be hidden away from the world at large?

All these questions flitted through his head but were quickly dismissed; really he did not care how or why it was he who had found this treasure. All that mattered is that he had. Hadrian quickly cast a ‘tempus’ charm (a rather handy spell he had come across last year shortly after the whole xmas debacle). The green numbers flashed above his head, 9:00pm. He sighed he had only an hour till curfew. He really did not want to leave the room however. Now it was more due to the fact that he did not want this collection to disappear and be unable to find it, then trying to avoid everyone.

Maybe he’d risk the whole curfew thing. Really he could skip a night of sleep; he had done it before with little consequence. He would rather that then lose this opportunity. Decision made Hadrian folded into a chair and began to read.

Many hours later Hadrian immerged from the 3rd dusty volume he had read that night. Eyes scratchy, mind buzzing he stiffly unfolded his body stretching and cracking bones as he went. Another quick tempus charm revealed that it was a little after seven, he had half an hour before breakfast and an hour before History of Magic (a completely useless class as it was taught. Hadrian was pretty sure he knew more about the Goblin wars then the ancient droll ghost who taught the class).

Replacing the book Hadrian quickly headed back for the dorm, a quick shower was desperately needed as he was still rather sticky from his vent session the night before. However crappy and gross he was feeling right now, it had been worth it. Hadrian had found out so much, so much he had not even thought to question before. He discovered that the form of magic he used would likely be labeled as wish magic. It was a rather rare magic that was generally not taught anymore, and few wizards were actually capable of doing it past early childhood.

This discovery had lead Hadrian to immersing his mind into himself to study his own magical core. It had taken him several tries and he had not quite perfected the technique recommended but he believed he had been able to grasp the basics. From this he believed that his core was neither made of light or dark, but rather pure energy or magic. This, he reasoned was likely why he had so little trouble performing any of the magics, and why he was still capable of doing the wish magic as powerfully as he could. From what more he read on the different types of cores and magics, he would guess that both Draco and Iztal leaned towards umberic magic (shadow magic) or better known as dark magic. He would guess that Iztal was much more inclined this way simply because he was much more powerful.

Magic that was exceptionally dark, light or completely neutral was generally much stronger. For example Iztal was likely as powerful as he was because he was on the far end of the dark magic spectrum, while Draco less so because he was a mix of dark and neutral. Hadrian was exceptionally powerful because rather than leaning one way or the other he was essentially completely pure or neutral. Hadrian would recon that Dumbledore was as powerful as he was because he was on the far end of the light magic spectrum. Hermione less so because she contained a mix of light and natural. From what Hadrian had read extremes of either light or dark were rare, but not near as rare as being completely neutral was.

The reason why extremes of any kind were so much more powerful was because they could just be rather then fighting the magic that the core deemed did not belong. Draco’s dark core likely spent a large part of it’s magical strength fighting against the neutral magic mixed in it. Most witches and wizards were born with slightly tainted cores and practicing certain magics that conflicted with their cores just added strain.

Hadrian learned that if he wanted to ensure his core remained neutral he would be wise to do a mix of both light and dark spells as well as casting them both with his dragon blood wand and wandless. This variety would ensure that his core did not get too dependent on one type of magic or that the darker wand he possessed did not taint his core irreversibly. Hadrian was relieved to have read this now rather than the end of the year. While before Hogwarts Hadrian had cast a wide variety of different magics, the Hogwarts curriculum was mainly light based. Had he discovered this even as late as the end of his first year the damage would likely have already been done, he would have made his core lean much more towards light magic then dark. He rationalized that the only reason that it hadn’t already taken effect was because his wand was essentially a dark wand.

As Hadrian let the scalding water of the shower wash away the last of his frustration and weariness his thoughts turned to the current political climate. Right now, light was definitely leading in power and influence. But the more he thought about it, the more obvious the facts became. Light could not be allowed to continue in their domination, but neither could dark be allowed to take over and assert control. No, if everyone, light, dark and neutral based were to be protected a third side to this conflict needed to emerge. A neutral side.

While practicing a majority of light spells could hurt those neutrally or dark based, and practicing a majority of dark spells could equally damage neutral and light based wizards, practicing neutral magic or a mixture of light and dark would hurt no one and benefit all.

There needed to be a neutral side. And they needed to win.

 **Well** , Hadrian thought ideas rapidly forming and organizing in his mind **. I** **guess I know have future plans**.

Dark and light wizards alike would not know what hit them.

In a completely different spiritual plain, Magic smirked.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“What is it” Iztal asked, voice dripping with irritation as he looked up to where Daimon was sitting across the table.

Daimon’s face read nerves, but he pushed on, “ I-I just thought you might like to borrow this for your Arithmancy paper?”

Iztal like Hadrian had been approved to take subjects and topics above his actual grade, Arithmancy being one of them. Iztal pushed down his irritation, he had been much too emotional as of late and he needed to get a handle on it. It would not do to go and alienate everyone. Iztal glanced at the text being thrust in his direction, “ _Predicting intake and digestibility using basic ruminal function models_.” He had been itching to read the text but it was not a required text and rather expensive, therefore he had forgone purchasing it. While both he and Hadrian stole enough income to get by they really did not have enough to waste on things outside basic needs and school, especially now that they were at school and unable to steal and sell as they had been.

Iztal forced himself to give the 4th year Ravenclaw a small smile. “Why, yes that would be most helpful”

Daimon looked both relieved and ecstatic that he had managed to procure one of Iztal’s rare smiles, it was not just the Slytherin house that seemed to want to bend over backwards for the charismatic preteen (though Slytherin was really the only ones to witness the not so pleasant side of his personality, he was still trying to build contacts after all). “No problem. Just keep it until your done”

Iztal nodded effectively dismissing the boy and returning to his Herbology essay. Well that’s what it looked like he was doing, in reality he was ruminating. He had been since last night. For what was likely the first time ever, he doubted his decision. He wanted to kick himself for doing so but he couldn’t help it, something in his gut would just not leave him be. That something was telling him he had made a horrible mistake when it came to Hadrian. He hated this something almost as much as he hated the overwhelming guilt he had felt when he saw the hurt in Hadrian’s eyes.

He sighed and shifted in his seat, Hadrian would get over it, he was strong it wasn’t the first time the younger boy had been disappointed by something. Deep down Iztal knew this was different but still he convinced himself that he was right. He had gotten over his disappointments before so too should Hadrian. Hadrian was not the only one that had faced abandonment in his life; no, Iztal also had his fair share of it.

He really had never known either of his parents. He still has the odd dream containing a frizzy black haired woman, and even rarer a dark haired, blue eyed man but those have decreased over the years. What he knows of his rather horrible childhood consists mainly of the streets and the woman who found him, Crystal.

Crystal unfortunately was not the best surrogate mother. She was much more interested in using whatever money she peddled to obtain her latest fix. Iztal had always suspected the only reason that she had found him and taken him in, was to get more sympathetic money while pan handling. The only thing she had ever told him about his past was that she found him in an half destroyed, abandoned house, stashed in the bottom of a wardrobe. This was a house she had been looking through in hopes of finding something left behind that she could sell to the local pawn shop, instead she found him.

She wasn’t the best of caretakers but she had managed to feed him (most of the time), and protect him from the worse of the worst. This of course ended when she overdosed on his sixth birthday. By that time he had spent enough time looking after himself (which he had been basically doing since he was old enough to walk) to disappear on the streets. Not long after he had found Hadrian.

Even now he can’t really say why he allowed the boy into his life. It would have been easier, well at least initially for him to just leave the 5 year old to his own machinations. But for whatever reason he hadn’t. And though he would never admit as much, he was glad he hadn’t. Deep down he knew that Hadrian had saved him as much as he had saved Hadrian.

Which is why, now he found himself having the tiniest bit of doubt over his decision to place some distance between them. Really the reasons he had decided this, were not the ones he had originally convinced himself of. Yes, he was worried about the rest of his school mates thinking he was soft if he showed them his and Hadrian’s friendship. Yes, he detested having to depend on another for anything. But the main reason he had sought to put distance between them was that he had started to notice the other boy.

Iztal had always been ahead of the rest of his school mates in everything he did, so it should have come as no surprise that he was slightly ahead in this as well. Iztal was soon turning thirteen and like most boys entering early puberty his interests had diversified from simple friendship. He had started to take far too much notice in Hadrian’s mannerisms, the way he moved, the way he spoke, and his thoughts and this terrified him. Iztal really had no problems with homosexuality, he had embraced the wizarding world as soon as he had arrived, and homosexuality was an accepted practice.

The real fear came from liking his only friend. As unlikely as he was to admit it, Iztal was terrified of being rejected. So, his solution was to reject first. Less hurt for him.

Though now, he wasn’t so sure.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“…and young Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy had yet another dispute in the hall before my class” Minerva said pointedly, “really the pair of them are incessant in their dislike for one another.”

“It’s hardly Draco’s fault when Mr. Weasley is such a moronic vulgar whelp” Severus shot back, coming to the defense of one of his favorite students, not to mention godson.

Dumbledore allowed them their little argument as he rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. He was currently sitting amidst the rest of his staff at their monthly staff meeting. A meeting meant to discuss houses, classes, students and possible problems or concerns. Apparently Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were one of those concerns.

He had better step in before Minerva strangled Severus, when it came to her lions she was equally as defensive as Severus was over his snakes. “Now, now, has either of the boys actually physically harmed one another?” he asked his two professors.

“No. Although Mr. Weasley tried to throw a punch at Mr. Malfoy last week. Disgraceful resorting fighting like a muggle, you would think he forgot that he was a wizard” Severus replied voice dripping with derision.

“Tried?” Albus asked. He really wasn’t all that surprised, young Weasley was not the strongest at magic and was rather short-tempered.

“Yes, Mr. Jameson stepped in. Cast a shield and immobilized both boys, although I believe he remobilized Mr. Malfoy first after giving a warning” Severus answered.

“That was quick thinking on the boy’s part, a shield and immobilization hex are rather advanced is Mr. Jameson in a higher year?” Albus asked somewhat confused as to why an older student would have been waiting outside class with the first years.

“No, Mr. Jameson is a first year, although it seems he is rather proficient in magic from what I have discerned” Severus replied.

“A pureblood or wizard raised?” Albus asked surprised. While advanced if he had prior tutoring it was feasible.

“Not that I am aware of, I believe he is muggle born and raised, I know the rest of my house believe so” Severus replied.

Albus’s eyebrows rose. That was quite an accomplishment since most muggleborns were not aware of magic before they entered Hogwarts, and considering it was had only been two months since the start of school. Albus was not sure he liked it.

“What about the rest of you, how would you say young Mr. Jameson is doing in your classes? Anything out of the ordinary?” Albus asked the rest of the teachers gathered.

Minerva’s stern, displeased expression instantly morphed into one of pride. This in itself was surprising since while Minerva was always fair to all her students she tended to take pride in only those in her own house. “Oh, yes the boy is brilliant. Truly astounding. He is far ahead in Transfiguration, Albus. The first class he successfully transfigured a toothpick into a sowing needle on his first try, not only that but he added embellishments! So far he has successfully completed every single transfiguration presented in class with only one attempt. The only student who has ever been close is Mr. Kuruo in the year above and even he took two tries.”

“Same thing in my class, a real natural. Very quiet, hangs around mainly with Mr. Malfoy, although the lovely Ms. Granger partners with him occasionally.” Filius offered.

“Ms. Granger?” Albus enquired, the name was familiar he just couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh, yes a muggle born witch, quite bright. Only second in her charms to Mr. Jameson” Filius answered.

 **Well that was a good thing** Albus thought to himself. He had already been quite worried about Iztal Kuruo in the class above. The boy eerily reminded him of another boy from 50 years back, remarkably clever and charming but so cold. From the description of Mr. Jameson and given that the boy was also a Slytherin he had been worried, but if he was associating with other muggleborns and was a muggleborn himself perhaps his worry had been misplaced.

One by one, every single one of the teachers agreed with Minerva’s and Filius’s assessments, that Mr. Jameson was quiet but brilliant, and well beyond his years in magical knowledge. Even Severus offered praises to the boy’s potion making abilities, something the taciturn Potions master rarely if ever did.

“Does he interact with any of his house mates?” Albus asked Severus

“He is quite friendly with Mr. Malfoy, but I have not actually seen him interact with any of the others, although…” Severus trailed of looking unsure, something very out of place on his face.

“Yes?” Albus asked interest peaked.

“Well, I haven’t actually seen them together but I have a feeling that Mr. Kuruo and him are or were close at one time” Severus answered reluctantly.

“Hmmm….” Albus replied. That was not good. He already did not like young Mr. Kuruo one bit. The boy was all too focused on gaining power and aligning allies. Allowing him to befriend and possibly ally himself with a boy who was already basically a magical prodigy would not be wise.

Perhaps he should intervene? No, he was overreacting; perhaps he would just keep a closer eye on the situation.

Yes, that was a good idea. He would watch for now. After all if the young Mr. Jameson was as brilliant as professed perhaps he could substitute him for Harry. Albus would have preferred his already hero, but when life gives you lemons….

You manipulate them into wine.


	11. The art of reconciliation

** Chapter 10: The art of reconciliation  **

_This thing I am feeling, I’m almost certain, is the closest I’ll ever come to standing somewhere in between truth and reconciliation.” ―_ [ _Raquel Cepeda_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/401455.Raquel_Cepeda) _,_ [ _Bird of Paradise: How I Became Latina_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/21525708)

The next two months passed in a bit of a blur for Hadrian. He had fallen back into old habits when dealing with emotions and events that he did not wish to deal with, he ignored them. Instead he threw himself into his books, learning and those relationships that were not involved with the current upset in his life. He found himself once again going into overdrive, at the neglect of scheduled meals and sleep, all in order to inundate himself with acquiring new knowledge.

This had of course both positives and negatives, of which he chose to ignore the negatives and focus on the positives. The positives of course being that his learning and understanding of magic had exponentially increased. Once he had managed to really connect with his magical core (something that took him the better part of a month) everything else just seemed to make sense. Concepts that he had struggled to understand, intrinsically became natural, his access to his pure magic seemed limitless, and the ease and boredom he had found in class increased. The best part of this new understanding was the relaxation and comfort it gave him. Hadrian had never really known acceptance or unquestioned love from anyone much less a parent, being really, truly connected with his magic almost gave him the feel that he would attribute to a mother’s love and care.

He could not explain this feeling but knew better then to look a gift horse in the mouth (a saying by muggles he really did not understand). Even his distance from Iztal came with a few benefits. It gave him time to strengthen his friendship with both Draco and Hermione, although even these friendships could not be deemed normal. From what he understood most friendships were based on loyalty, trust and acceptance on both parties. While their friendships definitely had undertones of loyalty and acceptance, there was no real trust, well at least on his part. Similarly the loyalty was more one sided from them to him, though he would not deny he felt the need to protect and defend them in his own right. He would classify his bond with them as more of a mentor-student one, while they seemed to feel that it was more of a friendship one.

Either way it didn’t really change much. Although he had found the bushy haired brunet a little odd and a tad annoying, her persistence had eventually won him over along with her obvious reverence for knowledge. He could appreciate both characteristics in her, similar to how he appreciated the snarky blond for his power and less obvious cleverness, especially in potions. Both relationships were initiated out of convenience and mutual benefit, but he could admit he did not mind that they had slowly morphed into something deeper. Draco and Hermione where not the only ones that he had given extra attention too. He had quietly and discretely branched out to other students of interest, not limiting himself to his own house.

He had successfully started positive alliances with both Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, other Slytherin year mates with valuable skills. Theodore had several worthy connections in both the wizarding and muggle less savory worlds, this partnered with the fact he had a calm, calculating nature made him useful. Blaise Zabini on the other hand was very charismatic and had strong ties with his indigenous magic making him a powerful individual that would be unwise to overlook. He had taken one look at Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson and decided that their personalities weren’t worth any benefits they might have brought. He had extended a tentative hand in friendship to a 6th year Slytherin by the name of Francois Roux, a shy boy who had strong ties to the French monarchy, the boy’s birth given power were easily overlooked by most because of his quiet nature and lack of magical strength.

Outside of Slytherin, Hadrian had endeared himself to almost all of the Ravenclaws simply because of his academic brilliance and his willingness to help others with their own attainment of knowledge. He had managed to befriended a good number of Hufflepuffs as well given that he was not confrontational and the fact that if you had no reason to dislike him, you could not help but be drawn to the powerful aura that swirled around him. Gryffindors were another story completely. Most of the Gryffindors were of loud, out spoken, brash natures and they did not take the quiet, calculating air of the little Slytherin as a necessarily positive thing. That and Ronald Weasley took pulled no shots in spouting his anit-Slytherin opinions to all that would listen, generally his housemates.

Ron had eagerly lumped Hadrian in with Malfoy when it came to dealing with the two Slytherins. He saw Malfoy as enemy so naturally he assumed Hadrian was as well, despite the fact that Hadrian had never actually done anything to him other then break up him and Malfoy. This was enough however for the short tempered red head and it had made a significant impact on how the other Gryffindors reacted to him.

This being said not ALL of them were of this opinion. He had managed to make a positive impression on the quiet, clumsy Neville Longbottom, and more surprisingly the two Weasley twins, George and Fred. When he had suspiciously questioned them on their reasoning for this during an afternoon that had found them plunking their rather bright and gaudy set of robed bodies next to him, they had simply stated that Ron was a prat and they liked him. No amount of stern looks, prickly replies or cold shoulders had dissuaded them and like with Hermione their persistence eventually won out. Years later they would eventually admit that they had instinctually known he was going to throw a wrench in wizarding society and they just wanted to watch everything blow up. Given the twins own predilection for causing mayhem this really wasn’t that large of a surprise.

So, yes while he was starting to feel rather worn down physically, he had never felt stronger magically or politically. Once again a small sacrifice. Hadrian pulled himself from his musings and pushed the pounding pain in his skull away, years of being on the receiving end of physical pain had essentially numbed the effect that it had on him. As such, it was a small matter to push his current physical discomfort into the back of his mind and seal it off. He would later discover that it was a form of occlumency that his mind had naturally adopted that permitted this.

Hadrian discreetly surveyed the Slytherin common room from his corner position. While he had been gaining allies at a fairly fast rate he was smart enough not to do so obviously, thus kept his distance from the ‘power’ position lent to the center of the room. It was a well known fact that the ideal position of power was as Prince of Slytherin. This unofficial title said it all. The ‘Prince’ was the Slytherin that controlled the rest of them; it was his word that was ‘law’ so to speak. His favor could make or break you . This position came with many perks and powerful alliances, even after Hogwarts and was viciously defended by the one that held it.

Iztal of course had taken the position with little trouble after the initial in-fighting. From how everyone automatically deferred to the teen and what he knew from basically growing up with him, Hadrian was glad he had not been there to witness the domination fights.

Speaking of which, Hadrian would be amiss not to notice Iztal’s unusual increasing absences lately. Even now the boy was deliberately working his way through admirers to escape the room.

‘Just what is he up to? Hadrian wondered following the careful maneuvering with his eyes. Most people he was disengaging himself from did not even notice that he was doing so, Iztal was a rather skilled manipulator in his own right.

Curiosity flared inside Hadrian’s chest. He had been careful to keep his distance since the night several months ago but that did not mean his awareness of the other boy had diminished.

Convincing himself that this curiosity was directly related to his own plans and political maneuvering, rather than a lingering wish to ‘fix’ their currently broken relationship, Hadrian quickly arrived at the decision to follow the boy and determine just where it was he kept disappearing to.

Hadrian quickly and quietly gave an excuse to Draco before slipping out of the common room after Iztal. He resolutely ignored the warning voice telling him he was being an impulsive Gryffindor as he kept a careful distance between them, sticking mainly to the shadows.

Something intrinsic to his self told him that this night would change things, not only between them but the current course of the wizarding world...

Whether for better or worse, remained to be seen.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Iztal quietly stalked through the deserted halls. The past two months had been nothing short of infuriating. Yes, he had decided to distance himself from Hadrian, but it did not stop him from being rather vexed when the other boy resolutely took to ignoring him.

He had found himself carefully observing the boy after their spat and was not sure how to feel about what he found. The only thing that he could define was that what he was worried. The type and reasoning behind this worry varied greatly. Some small, smothered part of him found itself worrying over the boy’s physical state.

It was becoming more and more apparent that Hadrian was not taking care of himself, something Iztal had always sniped at him about in the past. He knew full well that the younger boy could easily get caught up in his obsessive need to learn and push everything else away. This was apparently what Hadrian had been doing if the dark shadows under his eyes and increasingly prominent cheekbones were telling. This worry was accompanied by something akin to guilt and Iztal was quick to shove both into the locked portion of his mind.

The other part that worried him, he was not sure what to do with. He had discovered that Hadrian had been quietly and rapidly expanding his influence. Had it been anyone else doing so, he would not have hesitated to crush them, Hadrian however….

No, it didn’t sit well and he was not entirely sure what he wanted to do about it. This brought him back to what he was doing tonight. He had taken to searching the school at night, in part for a distraction and partly because he really did want to find it.

He had read about ‘The Chamber of Secrets’ in his first year, and it had intrigued him ever since. He had pushed his desire to find this mysterious center of undiluted Slytherin power aside while he was busy shoring his own position inside the house, but now that he had time…

He had unfortunately failed to find even a hint of it. Most frustrating indeed. He had found another room of interest however. Almost by mistake, he had stumbled upon the room it, nearly passing by as he had assumed it to be a broom closet. Something had made him stop and take a closer look at the non-descript door. He had most decidedly Not been expecting a three headed dog to be on the other side.

At first he had excitedly thought that perhaps this could be the entrance to the Chamber, after all it was thought that the chamber contained a great monster. It was not that far of a stretch to think that there could also be a monster guarding the entrance. He had eventually dismissed this possibility however; just given what he knew of Salazar Slytherin, somehow he did not see the founder of Slytherin using a beast as plebian as a dog, regardless of its magical attributes.

He had found this room only a few nights ago and had not had the chance to return before tonight. He stealthily made his way up to the third floor corridor, debating on whether or not to try and get to the trap door under the dog that he had noted earlier. While yes, he was curious as to why the dog was there and what it happened to be guarding, he also did not particularly have a death wish.

He came to a stop before the door in question, reaching out with his magic to confirm that he was indeed alone. He almost didn’t catch the second presence. He was sure that had he not already been so familiar with the currently very repressed aura, that he would have dismissed it for one of the magical paintings.

Iztal quickly spun around and leapt forward, effectively trapping his prey between him and the stone wall.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, careful to keep his voice quiet as to not alert anyone else.

The smaller body stopped squirming, realizing that it was truly trapped, “I could ask you the same” Hadrian replied, after a pause he continued his voice mocking, “Just what is so interesting about this hallway, to garner the precious interests of the Prince?”

“And just what concern is it of yours?” Iztal bit back annoyed that it had taken him this long to detect his shadow.

Hadrian did not answer but stubbornly jutted his chin out and stared him in the eyes. Iztal had to bite back the smile that wanted out. It was such a familiar gesture from the younger boy. He had always used this mulish expression to get what he wanted from Iztal, something about it always made him cave.

And once again he found himself doing so. Iztal let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me?” he questioned quirking a brow.

The incredulous expression on Hadrian’s face made him want to laugh. “I was not talking to YOU?” he asked in disbelief. “Excuse me if I am mistaken, but it was you that decided to be an ignorant, nasty prick and then decided to have nothing to do with me”

“Language, Hades” Iztal admonished automatically, without realizing what he was even doing.

Both froze at the familiar use of Hadrian’s nickname. One which he had only ever allowed Iztal to use. The continued to stare at each other, each trying to force the other to speak next.

Finally, Hadrian broke, “So, are you going to continue being an asshole or was that a phase?” he asked with a sigh, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

Iztal paused, he could answer two ways. The first he could continue with his resolute dismissal of the boy or secondly he could seize this figurative olive branch and mend things before it was too late. He quickly thought back to his initial reasoning that had led him too breaking things; the reasons he had had were still present. **But** the little voice in his head rationalized, **distancing himself from Hadrian really hadn’t solved anything. If anything it had made it worse.**

He had been more edgy lately, he had also found himself distracted from his goals and spending more and more time brooding on the broken friendship. So really his plan to remove Hadrian’s influence on him had backfired.

Iztal was generally rational and so he went with the only rational decision that he could.

“Phase” he replied, mentally holding his breath to see if Hadrian would accept this as it was meant to be, an apology.

Hadrian studied him for a long moment, and finally it appeared he had found what he was looking for. “Good” he replied, then allowed a small grin to grace his face, “Are you planning on letting me free?”

Iztal scrunched his brow briefly in confusion, before blushing as he realized Hadrian was still pinned to the wall. He quickly took a step back and turned towards the door he had originally been looking for, giving himself a chance to compose himself.

“So, what ARE you doing wandering the halls” Hadrian asked, straightening and walking forward to look at whatever had caught Iztal’s attention.

Iztal took the next several minutes to explain about his search for the ‘Chamber of Secrets,’ his subsequent discovery of the three headed dog and his theories. When he had finished Hadrian looked perplexed but thoughtful.

“Well, I would assume whatever it is guarding would be valuable but why on Earth would someone place something valuable inside a school? It’s rather moronic” Hadrian offered his opinion.

“Indeed” Iztal replied, “There is something that feels off about it, I can’t say what exactly but it’s similar to the whole troll situation at Halloween, there is just something not quite right.”

Hadrian hummed his agreement before speaking “Honestly, my gut feeling is telling me to leave it be.”

Iztal stopped to think about what Hadrian was saying and found that he really could not disagree. Now that he took the time to think about it, his Slytherin, self preservation instincts were screaming the same thing. To stay away. He sighed, he hated to leave things unresolved but he was too much a Slytherin to disregard his own well being. “Alright, let’s head back then, I’d rather not be on the receiving end of Filches detentions for no reason”

Hadrian nodded his agreement, and the two boys quietly made their way back towards their common room.

After a few moments of companionable silence Hadrian once again broke the silence.

“Hey, you know how you were saying you felt something off with the Cerberus and the troll?” he asked.

“Yes?” Iztal replied, slowing his pace to give them time to finish the conversation before reaching their intended destination.

“I….well…I get that feeling from two of the professors” Hadrian said hesitantly.

Iztal stopped grabbing Hadrian’s arm to spin him so they were facing each other, “What do you mean?” His innate defense of the smaller boy flared, no one had the right to hurt Hadrian. **Well** , he amended **no one but him.**

“I can’t say exactly, but it’s that same feeling you were describing earlier, there’s something off about Professor Quirrel, and I get a almost malevolent feeling from the headmaster, I don’t know” Hadrian replied pausing to think, “they haven’t done anything to explain it, I mean other then the fact that I get the feeling they are watching me closer than everyone else, but it just feels….off” he finished lamely shrugging.

Iztal had noted the same thing. He had dismissed it with the headmaster, for some reason Dumbledore had always seemed to dislike him, but he had noted that Professor Quirrel’s stuttering nervous personality seemed to slip at times, almost as if he was wearing a mask himself. He wasn’t sure why a professor thought it necessary to don a mask of that extreme, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

He shook off the feeling of unease at the thought, “Just stay away from them” he told Hadrian before turning to continue walking.

Even while saying this, Iztal somehow knew that this might be easier said than done.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Snape leaned back in his seat watching the first year Slytherin/Gryffindors attempt to brew Blemish Blitzer and tried to remind himself why he was forced to endure such agony. **Ah yes** , he thought bitterly **Albus**. For a man supposedly so white, he had little compunction in guilting him to serve a side which was so ill suited to him. And all because he had happened to fall in love with a young, stubborn, red headed, green eyed witch. **Well at least he had ceased with the pointless search for one Harry Potter** he thought moodily.

This fact bothered him more than he thought it should, well maybe not more than it should, given that he had made a blood oath to Lily that he would protect her son. The thing that really worried him was that the blood oath had not been reacting as it should. He had felt little if no pain, pain that should have been a given due to the fact that Harry Potter was missing. If the blood oath was working properly Harry’s current assumed danger or death should have had SOME effect. But there had been nothing. In fact since the start of the year the constant dull ache that Severus had felt for the past eleven years had all but vanished.

It was troubling in the fact that it did not make sense, and Severus hated when things did not make sense. The only logical assumption that he could draw was that wherever Harry was he was happier and in less danger then he had been in the last decade, something that did not sit well in how he had fared the last decade.

If there was one thing that Severus hated more than confusion, or even dare say his blasted childhood nemesis, the Marauders, it was failing at something. And when it came to the missing Harry he could not help but feel that he had failed some way.

The second thing that had been causing him stomach ulcers was Albus’s sudden disinterest in locating the Potter heir. While initially he took this as a good thing (he did not trust Albus in the least and this distrust was growing by the day) he was now left to be concerned about Albus’s newest interest.

Severus was dreadfully protective over his own house’s students, partially because it was the responsibility of each head of house, but mainly because most of his snakes came from unstable home environments and were overlooked by the people they needed most.

Their pasts were often what made them want to prove themselves, to stand on their own. This trait was so misunderstood that the students that often needed the assistance were tossed aside by the other Professors simply due to a century long prejudice. Given his own history, Severus had risen to the challenge and had become not only his house’s biggest champion of defense but also their protector.

This was a role that he took quite seriously; it was also the reason that he did not like Albus’s new fascination with Hadrian Jameson. He had successfully kept Albus’s meddling away from the second year student, Iztal Kuruo and now he had to add yet another student to try and distract Albus’s attentions from.

He would not admit it to anyone outside of himself, but for some reason he felt incredibly protective over the young Mr. Jameson. He had initially dismissed this instinct due to the fact that Hadrian was one of the few students he did not wish to boil alive in a draught of astute augmentation, but when he had heard Albus’s little to keen of questioning about the boy these instincts flared into overdrive.

 **It did not make sense…..unless Mr. Jameson was somehow….Harr….NO! no way, there was absolutely no way that the son of James Potter would be a quiet Slytherin prodigy instead of a blundering brash Gryffindor, just no way. A little voice in the back of his head whispered….but Lily…..No! No! NO!** Severus’s conscience rejected this line of reasoning vehemently.

 **It’s too big of a coincidence** the voice whispered insistently. If Severus could have glared vehemently at his own brain at this moment he would have, since this was not exactly possible he settled on glaring at his class.

He would not let his mind play games on him. No. There was just no way he could ever find himself actually liking James Potter son.

Even Fate could not be THAT cruel.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The day before Christmas had Albus Dumbledore staring in disbelief at the mirror in front of him. There was NO WAY! This was NOT possible.

When his _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ teacher had suddenly vanished the week prior he had put it down to the man’s odd quirks and thought little about it, he was after all a rather busy man. As the week wore on however he started to feel as though he had missed something crucial. In an attempt to settle this restless feeling Albus had quickly dismantled his traps and gone to check on the stone. This was what had led him to this horrible discovery.

But no matter how hard he stared at the infamous Mirror of Erised, the answer did not change.

The Philosophers Stone was gone.


	12. The art of complacency

** Chapter 11: The art of complacency  **

_Light is creation. Darkness is the space necessary to create.” ―_ [ _Erica Jasmin Cartaya_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7159609.Erica_Jasmin_Cartaya)

The remainder of the year passed without incident. Hadrian and Iztal maintained a wary but mutually agreed upon compromise. Both aligning themselves publically but agreeing to respect each other’s secrets, well at least for the time being. Iztal kept his emotional distance; Hadrian continued to secretly train and study his magic. Both continued to make allies.

Severus continued to watch both boys and was rewarded to see that his instincts that they were indeed closer than many thought were correct. He also continued to struggle with the increasing suspicions that Hadrian Jameson might indeed be Harry Potter. He stoically maintained his silence on this fact partially because of his fear of Albus’s meddling but also because he had an idea of what the missing stone might mean. Either way, if Hadrian was indeed the missing Harry it was much safer for that detail to remain buried. He had tried to glimpse his forehead several times to see if there was the infamous lightning bolt scar but to his frustration found that Hadrian never wore his hair in a manner that would permit this deduction.

Albus continued to plot and scheme. Becoming more and more desperate following the theft. He knew Voldmort was likely less than a year from returning, if not to full strength then at least partially. This was very dire in regards to his future plans. He continued to watch Hadrian Jameson. He could not quite shake the feeling that there was more to the boy the others were seeing. But despite this suspicion, the boy never deviated from what was expected. He continued to excel in class; he continued to maintain a quiet, laid back persona. The one thing that did disturb Albus was the growing friendship between Iztal and Hadrian, he could not however figure out how to stop it, well not without pushing the boy away. He was disappointed with the child’s quiet ways; the public would require the boy to come out of his shell if he were to step in for the boy who lived. But so far he was the best candidate. It would have been much better had Neville Longbottom had an iota of magical talent considering his history but alas there was only so much the public would be willing to accept. And a near squib as their hero was not one of them.

Hermione and Draco continued to make in-roads with their friendship with Hadrian. Draco had even managed to maintain a neutral rather than hostile relationship towards Iztal. Hermione had not. She hadn’t actually managed to make herself accepted by either Slytherin, mainly because of her staunch morals and impure blood. Hadrian ignored the bickering between them, refusing to stop his association with either parties or become involved as a mediator.

Several hundred miles away Quirrel, with the help of Voldmort used the Philosophers stone to help find a body and concoct a potion to restore Voldmort to human form. Voldmort continued his own plotting. He was now sure that Iztal Kuruo was the one he had been searching for. He planned to use the time that it would take him to strengthen and return to form to continue his plotting. He had not abandoned his wish to make dark magic the ruling magic in Britain; he now just had a few other priorities. Approaching Iztal would be one of them, demolishing Albus would be another.

And time ticked on.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Everything is ready my lord” Quirrel stated, his voice slightly shaky as he fell to his knees in front of the man before him.

It had been 2 ½ years since he had stolen the stone for his master and for those two and ½ years they had laid low, quietly restoring the Dark Lord to his previous health and magical strength and quietly seeking out the locations and loyalties of the rest of his Lord’s army.

Lord Voldmort had managed to rebuild his forces to a rather impressive level, this time being careful to identify and somewhat pacify the more impulsive, blood thirsty ones. He had briefly considered breaking into Azkaban to retrieve those who had been imprisoned in his absence, but quickly dismissed the idea as rash and unwise. The whole reason he had been avoiding blatantly announcing his return was to gain an upper hand after all. It would be stupid to pull something as large as a mass break out of the most feared wizarding prison in existence. Albus might suspect that he had stolen the stone but he could not be sure as of yet. The quieter things remained the more he would doubt this suspicion. Of course Severus might have informed Albus that his dark mark was becoming more and more visible, but Voldmort wasn’t sure on this. He had not decided just what side of the war Severus was on and until he did he would avoid summoning him.

Not to mention that there was really none of his imprisoned followers that he needed enough to rescue them. Bella had given him pause but he had thought it through rationally. She had spent over a decade with the Dementors, and given that she was a tad unhinged before her incarceration, there would be little left of her mind now. He did not need that influence around something so precious.

It wasn’t as if he had been sitting idle either. He had spent a great deal of time training and recruiting old and new death eaters alike, but outside that he had spent his time researching. Researching a way to bring about Albus’s ultimate downfall. Something that he could not come back from, something to make him suffer, death was much, much too good for the old fraud.

Not after what he had put Tom through in his youth, not for what he had done to him after. No death was much too simple for the bastard. Tom wanted to cause Albus pain, pain equal to what he had been caused. The only thing that would truly hurt Albus was the loss of what he held most dear, his saintly reputation.

So, Tom had schemed and plotted and finally come up with a way to cause irreversible damage. Voldmort cackled to himself impressed with his own vindictiveness. He had seen to it himself. He had travelled to the only other truly feared place in the wizarding world outside Azkaban. He had sought out the man he had based so many of his own philosophies and actions on, Grindelwald.

What he had found had mildly disgusted him. An insane, old, weathered, bitter man; trodden to a shell of what he must have once been, but Voldmort could overlook this. The information the former Dark lord had given him was magnificent. Grindelwald hadn’t even been hard to persuade once he told him that he was going to use it to ruin the beloved headmaster.

He scoffed at the mistakes Dumbledore had made. Had someone possessed this type of information on HIM, he would have made sure they were sent to their grave. But then Grindelwald’s defeat and imprisonment had taken place before the former dark lord’s curse had time to truly change the headmaster. Back then he still had morals, misguided hopes for doing the right thing, even to his ‘enemy.’

Though after hearing Grindelwald’s story he would debate the title of enemy. He could not help but take pleasure over the thought of what Grindelwald’s defeat must have cost the esteemed champion. Albus was far, far from as white as he liked to pretend.

Voldmort reveled in the information that Gellert and Albus had once been lovers, and as Gellert claims actually in love. The details were a little hard to discern given the addled mind of the teller but Voldmort had gleaned enough to cause damage.

Apparently they had met in their teenaged years, Gellert visiting his decrepit Aunt, Albus looking for escape from the responsibility of caring for his younger brother and sickly sister. Their ambitions had led to a fast friendship, a friendship that had become more. They had planned and plotted over a greater world. One where wizards need not fear discovery and muggle’s prejudices.

Then came the fight, the one involving Albus, Gellert and Albus’s brother Aberforth and consequently the death of Arianna his younger sister. Splintering of families had taken place; blame was laid out, bridges burned. Albus had decided to leave with Gellert and the two had furthered their plans.

It wasn’t until the 3rd year of Gellert’s war against the muggles that Albus had started to withdraw his support, stating that he hadn’t wanted to take things this far, that Gellert was changing into someone he no longer recognized. The two had had a vicious fight, one that lead to Albus leaving and openly opposing the rising dark lord.

Tensions continued to rise, the war got worse, causalities went from double to triple digits. The two wizards became more and more alienated. Tom had little interest in most of these details outside the fact that the Light Lord and former Dark Lord had once been that close, and the supposed Light Lord had actually assisted in the rise of Grindelwald.

No, what really interested Voldmort was the final battle. Grindelwald insisted that he had meant to fight Albus but upon seeing the face of the man he loved could not bring himself to do so. He admitted with no small amount of bitterness that he had pleaded with Albus for him to leave with Gellert. Gellert claims that he told Albus that he would abandon his own goals if Albus would agree. He bitterly recalled how Albus had agreed and then turned back on his word, instead handing him over to the Aurors.

After this admission the bitter face of the old wizard morphed into the insane smile that Voldmort had so commonly seen on Bellatrix’s face. He had cackled, hatred twisting his features. What he told Voldmort next filled him with a slight awe. Tom had always disliked Dumbledore but had never been able to achieve true revenge, Gellert had.

Gellert had told Voldmort how seconds before the Aurors had cuffed him in magically suppressing cuffs, he had cast a wandless curse on his one time lover. The curse he had cast was so ancient that even Voldmort had not known it. Gellert explained that it worked over time, slowly changing and affecting its intended victim. Most victims did not even notice it was happening, those who did often only discovered it far too late to do anything about it, usually by that time they did not want to. As far as Gellert was aware there was no known counter. The spell he had cast was ‘ _mōrālis_ _toxicum,’_ meaning moral poisoning.

It truly was brilliant. It also explained a lot. It explained how someone who everyone believed was so righteous and moral had been able to do and think the way he had over the past two decades. The curse had been eating away at his moral center, making things he would never have once agreed with or done, make sense.

Despite Gellert’s revenge, Voldmort sensed that the old wizard’s current state of insanity was a mix between betrayal, hatred and regret, slowly crumbling the once sane mind. Not that Voldmort really cared that much. Once he had gained the information he sought, he felt few qualms for leaving the wizard to continue his isolated existence inside the cold, dark cell of Nurmengard. None what so ever.

No, now he had the information to bring Albus to his knees. He had the information to protect his dreams and ambitions,

He had the information to protect his son.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Dumbledore was not a happy camper, ever since that blasted boy had disappeared; his plans had been slowly unraveling before his feet. The only good thing that had happened in the past 4 years was the fact that Voldmort had not returned. Well as far as he could tell anyway. He had been worried… no more than worried, he had been frantic when the stone had gone missing. He was SURE that Voldmort had something to do with it.

He had started to revise this opinion however; it had been 2 and ½ years since the stones disappearance and nothing. He was not convinced that Voldmort was indeed sill gone, but the Dark Lord he had known would never have had the patience to wait this long without doing something. That something being killing and torturing muggles.

Albus quickly locked away the traitorous feelings of regret he found surfacing. These irritating emotions always surfaced whenever he thought about muggles, the past war or more specifically, Gellert. He had done what was needed. Gellert would never have abandoned his plans, he had been lying. Albus had done the right thing.

Despite the reassurances that Voldmort had yet to make a public attack, Albus’s plans were still not panning out the way he had hoped. Hadrian’s second year had been completely uneventful, with zero chances for Albus to test his allegiances. He could not decipher one iota if Hadrian was in favor of the light or the dark. The blasted child had thwarted him at every turn.

He had tried at first just to observe, but when this failed he had been forced to resort to private meetings between them. He had used the guise of course of congratulating the boy on his academic achievements, but nothing. The boy had only regarded him with the utmost of distrust and thanked him. Refusing to confide anything, despite the fact that Albus had been using all of his grandfatherly charm. The only thing he had gotten was stiff one worded answers.

After several similar meetings Albus had given up, instead instructing Severus to get close to the boy and report back to him. According to Severus, he had had as little success as Albus. He stated that the boy continued to excel in all things academic, continued to be a loner, really only having relationships outside acquaintances with Iztal Kuruo, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy. He stated that he thought that the boy might be friendly with the Weasley twins. This had made Albus happy; the Weasleys were a firmly light-sided family.

Still he needed to create a situation that would tell him if the boy could be the figurehead for the light. **How to do so…..**

Albus felt a smile spread slowly across his lips, **perfect** he thought. **Absolutely perfect, it was after all the Triwizard Tournament this year.**

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Hadrian was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, there was no denying that he had enjoyed his summer. Iztal had been more relaxed, more trusting. Hadrian had taken a risk and told him some of his plans. He was relieved to find Iztal just as excited about them as he was.

This was an enormous relief; it let him hope that there was a way that they would be able to work together towards achieving his goals. He was not sure what he would have done had Iztal decided to become an enemy. Iztal had been ecstatic at Hadrian’s description of the room and reading materials he had found. (Thankfully the room had remained and showed up whenever Hadrian had need for it). Hadrian had promised to show it to him.

The past few years had been good ones. Hadrian’s second year especially so. That was the year they had found _The Chamber of Secrets_. It had taken most of the rest of first year and entirety of second year, but they had done it. And all thanks to a rather sulky ghost who had decided to spy on one of Hadrian’s rule breaking bath.

Never had he been more thankful for having snuck into the Prefect’s bathroom then he had been that night. Hadrian hated having to shower with the rest of his housemates in the communal bathrooms. It left you much too open and vulnerable to attacks. Thankfully, the Weasley twins had no compunction for sharing the Prefect‘s bathroom password with him. A password they had stolen off of their prat of an older brother, Percy. It amused them greatly that they were helping a sneaky snake break the cherished rules. It had taken little convincing on Hadrian’s part to weasel out the information on the entrance from Myrtle. Especially after discovering that Moaning Myrtle was the girl that had been killed last time the Chamber was opened.

It happened to be the first time Hadrian had seen Iztal giddy and that was not something he was sure he wanted to see again.

Third year had been a bore. It had consisted mainly of him and Iztal sneaking off to the chamber. There had been some drama involving an escaped convict from Azkaban who was trying to break into Hogwarts. The convict was supposedly trying to find and kill Harry Potter, though Hadrian was not convinced. If the convict was smart enough to escape a prison said to be inescapable, surely he was smart enough to realize that the supposed savior was missing? The whole situation really had little to do with him, and therefore he had been quick to dismiss it. The only interesting thing involved in it was the fact that this escaped convict apparently made Professor Snape very on edge.

Speaking of which, an odd thing had happened between him and the dour Potions master. They had become something akin to friends. It had been a slow and rather painful process for both, but eventually their love of potion brewing and their complimentary silent and suspicious natures, had formed a mutual respect of sorts.

Hadrian had taken to spending a few nights every week brewing various potions, either of his own interest or those the potion master was working on. Generally the meetings were done in complete silence but over the past two years they had slowly started discussing things. Things such as: Light vs. Dark magic, the follies of the Minstery, and with much more caution, the follies of Albus Dumbledore and Voldmort.

Hadrian had long since decided to let the two sides battle it out, to tear each other’s defenses down and exhaust one another. It would only make it easier for him in the end. Why fight two sides when they can fight each other?

If Hadrian had, had suspicions that Severus had been a spy between the two sides in the last war, their conversations only confirmed it for him. Through careful comments and words, Severus let him know to be wary of the Headmaster’s plotting, he had also hinted to the fact that Voldmort was likely back. Despite discerning that Snape was indeed a spy, Hadrian honestly couldn’t tell which side he was truly loyal to.

The more time he spent with the potion’s professor the more he became sure of it.

Severus Snape would make an excellent ally.


	13. The art of being a champion

** Chapter 12: The art of being a champion **

[ _There's a difference in thinking you are a champion and knowing that you are._ ](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/m/matthewmcc535101.html)

_-_ [ _Matthew McConaughey_ ](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/matthew_mcconaughey.html)

 

“Did you enter? I did. Father says there is no way that I wouldn’t be considered” Draco stated, the arrogance he always adopted when speaking of his family leaking out.

 

“Mm” Hadrian replied, cocking an eye brow and letting his disproval show in his expression. He had perfected this mild yet obvious look of rebuke especially for Draco and those similar. If there was one thing that arrogant pure-blood children answered to, it was cold, silent admonishments. Hadrian would venture a bet this was because it was what their parents most likely used to tell them they were out of line. One had to know which methods worked on which people, he doubted this look would do anything but make Hermione more belligerent, but for Draco it worked perfectly.

 

The blond flushed at the nonverbal reprimand, “I just mean that it is rather more exciting than the usually droll activities that decrepit man dreams up. This actually involves other schools and wizards of superior quality then what we are forced to tolerate here” he defended himself, making sure to let his eyes rest on Hermione when he made the comment on wizards and quality.

 

Hadrian stopped himself from rolling his eyes, really their petty insults grew tiresome.

 

“Well I can see the benefit of making acquaintances with the foreign students, but the premise of the tournament is rather stupid if you ask me. What is the point of risking your life for entertainment, entertaining a bunch of juvenile students no less” Hadrian answered, looking up from his book.

 

The Tournament had been all anyone could talk about for the last two months and honestly Hadrian was beyond sick of the whole thing. It had only gotten worse, since the arrival of said foreign students last night. Now, instead of just idle speculations on which schools were attending and what the tasks might be, the gossip was centered on the newcomers. More specifically two of the star arrivals, the main being the Durmstrang student, Viktor Krum. Viktor happened to be a renowned international quiditch star, and as such, had a large majority of the male population and half the female population in arms over him. Those who did not find fame or quiditch overly important had their own distractions in the form of the French, Beauxbatons' students, whom Hadrian suspected had more than a little Veela blood running through their veins. The idiotic babble and giggling that came with this inane chatter was getting on his last nerve.

 

Hadrian was not short sighted enough to overlook the benefit of forming positive ties with these students, especially Viktor. Someone, who had achieved fame at the age of eighteen, should not be dismissed. Hadrian was not stupid enough to think that fawning or drooling over the famous teen would gain him favor however, anyone who chose to open their eyes could tell how irritated the boy was with his ‘fans.

 

While Hadrian enjoyed flying just as much as anyone else and could appreciate another’s skills, he found the game of Quiditch rather boring. The purpose of flying was to get away, to be free…why would anyone chose to constrict this freedom by applying a focus and rules? It did not make sense to him.

 

Draco had always been rather proud for making the house team and there had been a few weeks after witnessing Hadrian fly for the first time, that his jealousy seemed to endanger their tentative (at that time) alliance. Hadrian was grateful that this envy had all but vanished when Hadrian made it clear he had no interest in trying out for the team. This had soothed the temperamental blonds’ wounded pride and they had reached a silent agreement not to mention his infantile behavior again.

 

The second student that Hadrian had a particular interest in was the French minister’s niece, Anais Girard. However, no matter how badly he hoped to charm these individuals into backing his cause, he refused to be reduced to a sniffling, giggling pile of hormones. His fellow student’s behavior’s disgusted him.

 

“Well, I agree with Hadrian. While this is a way to encourage International cooperation among magical citizens, it is beyond dangerous and really has no place being hosted by a school. I don’t know what Professor Dumbledore was thinking” Hermione said primly, voicing her objection.

 

“When has that barmy old man ever lowered himself to actually think?” Draco retorted.

 

Hermione appeared to be about to argue, likely on how being a headmaster came with a lot of responsibilities, or maybe how adults knew best, something along that vein, but was interrupted by the chiming sound of an alarm she had set earlier.

 

“Oh drat! It is a good thing I set this alarm Hadrian or we would miss the Halloween feast and the champion selection. As it is we had better hurry” Hermione said a tad frantic at the thought of being late to anything, even if it was not a class.

 

“Thank goodness. I do not know if I would have survived not bearing witness to this monumentus occasion” Hadrian said dryly but stood up putting his books and quills away. He gave a quick wave of his hand and banished them to his door room, missing the envious looks from both of his friends.

 

“I really don’t know how you manage to make such huge displays of power look so casual” Hermione stated, “Even if I had read everything you have, I doubt that I could manage much more than a wandless _lumos._ ”

 

Hadrian gave her a quick smile, not saying anything. It was true, Hermione was a very clever witch but unfortunately she just did not have a strong enough magical core to become proficient in wandless magic.

 

“Yes, it should be impossible, at least from what I have heard from father. He states that for a wizard to be able to perform the magic you do wandlessly, that they would have had to have at least a few decades worth of training, and even then would be drained for a while after” Draco added his tone slightly petulant.

 

Hadrian shrugged. He knew that his readings had helped him access his magic but even so, he knew the amount of control and power he had was not normal. He could not explain it but as long as it continued to be a good thing he would not worry about it. “We should go, yes?” he firmly redirecting their questions.

 

“Yes, yes your right…I have to go back to my dorm quickly anyway. I will see you later?” Hermione said distractedly, showing that his misdirection was not entirely successful.

 

“Of course” Hadrian answered, turning slightly to Draco.

 

“I will meet you there, I want to send this letter to Korine before dinner” Draco answered, holding up an elegant ivory envelope, lovely calligraphy just visible. Draco had been corresponding with Korine Ren, the daughter of a wealthy, influential Dutch family and currently Draco’s betrothed. They had met briefly over the summer holidays when the contracts were signed between the two families and had been corresponding to learn about each other ever since.

 

“Very well, I promised to meet Iztal anyway. I will see you there” Hadrian answered before making his way out of the library and towards the great hall. He ignored Draco’s look of disgruntlement at Iztal’s name. While Iztal had learned to tolerate Draco and vice versa, they still preferred to avoid spending more time than necessary in each other’s company. This had led to Hadrian often dividing his time between the two groups and consequently the brewing of jealousy if one side thought the other was receiving more of his attention. Hadrian found the whole thing rather childish, something he might have expected from Draco or Hermione but not Iztal. However, he suppose that Iztal was allowed behave immaturely every once and awhile.

 

Hadrian ignored the rest of his house as he made his way over to Iztal. With a barely discernible nod of his head, Iztal effectively had everyone on his right shift down leaving the seat beside him open. While most of the house still held some degree of wariness towards Hadrian none of them, had the blatant respect and fear they did for Iztal. “Did you manage to find a book that you haven’t yet read, Hades?” Iztal asked pleasantly, a teasing note to his voice.

 

Good, Iztal was in a decent mood tonight. “Hmm…surprisingly yes. Did you manage to charm any more pretty French maidens to accept a drink from the devil?” Hadrian taunted back.

 

The smile on Iztal’s face was nothing short of predatory. “Why yes my innocent one, I did. I do believe that we will have several contact within Beauxbatons' before the end of the year, I had the most interesting conversation with a lovely lady by the name of Fleur Delecour.”

 

Hadrian knew that this had been part of the plan; to charm and befriend as many of the foreign students as they could between the two of them, but he couldn’t help the small twinge of jealousy he felt flare at the mention of Iztal turning his charm on anyone besides him. He shook his head slightly shocked and confused at this sudden possessiveness, what the hell was wrong with him? Maybe the lack of sleep was catching up to him. That was the only explanation he could come up with.

 

Hadrian banished his confused musings and focused his attention on the conversations taking place around him. He offered Viktor a polite smile when he caught the older boy staring at him. Well he might as well start trying to bolster some sort of amiable accord between them now. “I take it you entered?” Hadrian was careful to keep his voice neutral, letting nothing but polite interest show.

 

“Vhy do you ask?” Viktor asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

“Well I do believe an exchange of words is required to have a conversation” Hadrian replied, raising a brow.

 

Viktor stared at him for a long minute as if pondering whether or not Hadrian was making fun of him, he apparently decided he was not, “Is honor, for one’s school.”

 

Hadrian did not buy this for a second; he had noticed how Durmstrang’s Headmaster spoke for Viktor, how he hovered around the older boy as though scared Viktor would not obey his orders if Karkaroff was absent. “Is it?” Hadrian asked allowing his skepticism to shine through.

 

Viktor flushed slightly and ducked his head, concentrating on his food. Silence reigned for so long that Hadrian wondered if he had perhaps been wrong and misjudged the seeker’s discontent. Finally, Viktor looked back up at him, darting a quick glance to either side, as if to check for listeners before staring Hadrian in the eyes again, “Vine, it is expected” he said so quietly Hadrian had to strain to hear him.

 

Hadrian held his gaze, “Do you always do what is expected of you Krum?” he asked in an equally quiet voice, “that sounds rather tedious.”

 

Krum flushed again, and shifted uneasily before answering “I haff my reasons, you do not?” he denied.

 

“hmm” Hadrian answered smirking at the Bulgarian teen, neither agreeing or disagreeing with his statement. He had been correct then, Viktor was not happy with his tenders as of now, that provided an opportunity at the very least. He missed the jealous stare Iztal was giving Krum, as he allowed his mind to assess and dismiss several strategies.

 

His pondering was once again interrupted, this time by Dumbledore standing and clanking his fork against his goblet calling for the attention of everyone in the hall. An immediate hush fell over the excited students, as almost every head turned to hear what he had to say. Hadrian mentally rolled his eyes at what he was sure was going to be an irritating speech, he wasn’t disappointed.

 

*“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

 

He moved towards the goblet and made a series of grandiose and complicated moves that ended with the previous blue flames surging up and turning red. There was a collective gasp from the students before a slip of paper was spit out towards Dumbledore.

 

Dumbledore unfolded the paper and cleared his throat, likely casting a second _sonorous_ charm to project his voice, “The champion from Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!” he announcement was drowned out by the thunderous applause from not only the Durmstrang students but almost all of the Hogwarts ones as well.

 

‘Hmm…’ Hadrian contemplated ‘Perhaps I should take up Quiditch.’ If riding around on a broom chasing shiny things could prompt so much loyalty out of the sheep it might not be amiss. ‘Perhaps next year, since Quiditch was cancelled this year in order to host the TriWizards cup’.

 

Through his ponderings, Hadrian missed the announcement of the Beauxbatons Champion, which as he turned to watch a beautiful, blond haired girl walk towards Dumbledore and out the side door was the girl Iztal had been talking too earlier, Fleur Delecour. Hadrian fought to keep a scowl off his face; really his dislike of the girl was completely irrational.

 

He swore Dumbledore darted a quick glance over at him, but he could have been mistaken…

 

“The Hogwart’s champion is……Hadrian Jameson!” Dumbledore announced an extremely pleased look donning his face.

 

“What?” Hadrian asked in surprise, “No, I did not enter” he announced loudly enough for the entire hall to hear.

 

“Come now, my boy you must have, your name did come out. Now’s not the time to get cold feet” Dumbledore said trying to keep his voice lower as he moved to in front of Hadrian’s seated position.

 

“No. I did not enter, I have no desire to compete, I could care less about winning some ridiculous prize. No” Hadrian replied stubbornly. He knew he sounded like a spoilt child but be damned if he was going to compete in some hair brain tournament which had a 50% chance of killing him. Not that he was especially worried about the tasks being able to kill him, but still it was the principle. Not to mention he simply did not have the TIME for such stupidity. So no, just no.

 

“Hadrian, please come with me. This is a matter that should be discussed elsewhere” Dumbledore stated in a stern voice growing icy at the petulant look on Hadrian’s face.

 

“Fine” Hadrian spit out, before standing abruptly and raising his voice “but I do not approve. It is a disgrace how poorly this tournament is already being run.” There let Dumbledore suck on that, he thought viciously striding purposefully out of the hall into the antechamber behind.

 

Both Fleur and Viktor looked up as he entered; Fleur’s expression was clearly a dismissal, clearly stating how little she was feeling threatened by someone as small as Hadrian. Krum’s was one of disbelief. “I thought you did not approve uf silly games?” He asked his tone unfriendly.

 

“I do not. I did not enter; this is just another example as to why this is such a farce” Hadrian bit back, to pissed off to consider playing nice at the moment. Viktor gave him a considering look then simply nodded and turned back to the fire.

 

“What are zey doing in there?” Fleur asked haughtily, clearly not appreciating being made to wait.

 

The door swung open once again and a very angry looking Iztal stormed in. Hadrian looked at him in surprise, “Wha…” he began

 

“My name came out of that blasted cup” Iztal stated cuttingly.

 

Hadrian unlike the other two champions did not bother voicing that it was not possible, or he had thought Iztal had decided against entering, or the simple fact that there was only suppose to be three champions competing. Something rather screwy was going on.

 

Half an hour later; several rather derogatory accusations towards Iztal (not to mention suspicious looks at Hadrian when he continued to state he did not want to compete and he had not entered either), several screaming and shouting matches between teachers, headmasters and one French champion, it was determined that Hadrian and Iztal would both be competing, despite their protests.

 

They were told that if their parents disagreed they could come forward and argue the case with the ministry and the headmaster but chances were they would have to compete regardless. This paired with the fact that neither of the boys actually had a guardian (not that any of the adults knew) this kept them from hexing Dumbledore or simply walking away.

 

Sure, Hadrian was not happy about the dangers he would face but he was not all that worried. He knew he was much stronger magically then either of the other two school’s champions. He was not happy about losing time he could have otherwise given to studying or furthering his plans, but perhaps he could make this work.

 

Everyone loved a champion after all.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

Dumbledore was careful to keep the glee off his wizened face, while he was around the others. Finally, some of his plans were coming together. He knew of course that Hadrian hadn’t wanted to enter. He HAD watched carefully up until the very last day, growing more and more frustrated as the boy ignored the cup and promised fame that came with.

 

He had been disappointed at this, but he had decided on a course of action already, so he had entered the boys name himself. He was thrilled when the boy’s name had been chosen. Magical artifacts like the Goblet did not lie, the boy had to have been worthy of being named the schools champion. Sure, he may have overlooked a few pesky rules about the champions own will, but really they were young. The boy just needed encouragement; he was shy after all, despite his tactless display in the hall.

 

Well, Albus could attribute that to shock. The boy would step up, he had no doubt. Yes, this made him very happy. He was NOT so happy however about Iztal Kurou’s name coming out. This could only mean that someone ELSE, someone who was not him had tampered with the rules and the goblet. The reason for doing so could only be nefarious.

 

Well it was best not to dwell on things that could not be changed. He would just have to have faith; faith in his chosen champion.

 

He closed his eyes and leaned back gently swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a satisfied sip, yes he could feel it…The creation of a hero.

 

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

In a shadowed, dank room, miles away, a scene quite similar was playing out.

 

Quirrel felt a little shocked and more than a tad terrified, Voldmort had smiled at him. SMILED. He was pretty sure he had never seen that expression on the man’s face before. It was one of the most bone chilling things he had ever witnessed.

 

“Excellent, Bartimus had no issues getting the cup to accept my son’s name then?” Voldmort asked to reconfirm what Quirrel had just relayed.

 

“Yes, My Lord. There was apparently enough distraction with one of the other champions, which helped keep anyone from questioning Iztal’s own inclusion beyond the surface” Quirrel answered still unsure if his words would get him cruicoed.

 

‘Oh?” Voldmort asked, he had come up with this plan as a way to test his son, not to mention make it possible to meet him in person, that is if his son succeeded.

 

“Yes, the other Hogwart’s champion, Jameson claims he did not enter and did not want to compete” Quirrel answered.

 

“Curious…” Voldmort answered, he remembered Jameson, he was the child who had been arguing with his son. He hoped he would not prove to be a nuisance.

 

“Have Barty stick to the plan. Tell him to keep an eye on Jameson…dismissed” Voldmort stated with a wave of his hand.

 

It was curious but not worrisome. Voldmort was confidant his son would prevail.

 

His son was meant to be a champion.

 


	14. The art of putting out fires

** Chapter 13: The Art of Putting out Fires **

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_To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” ―_ [ _Federico García Lorca_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/44150.Federico_Garc_a_Lorca) _,_ [ _Blood Wedding and Yerma_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2651154)

****

Viktor knew that most people who saw him, immediately dismissed him as nothing more than a celebrity seeker, who wasn’t all that clever. And he could not deny this assessment, he was not clever in the traditional sense of the word; he was not a gifted scholar, and made for the finer arts of politics, but he was far from stupid. No, Viktor had spent more than enough time in the public eye to see and recognize nuances and intentions. He realized that Hadrian Jameson wanted something from him. What he could not be entirely sure.

 

He knew that it was unlikely that Hadrian had taken an interest in him for the reasons of most of his fan club. He did not seem overly smitten or awed at the ‘great Viktor Krum,’ in fact he seemed rather blasé about Quiditch in general. For this reason Krum could only guess that he had ambitions of his own and thought to use Krum to aid him. Normally Krum would have balked at his presumption, but for reasons he really did not care to get into, Viktor just didn’t.

 

He would not deny that he found the younger teen attractive, but it was more than the fact that he was good looking. Being a celebrity, Viktor had his choice in beautiful partners; true most of them turned out to be vapid and ridiculous. But he had enough to choose from, that he could safely say that it was not just Hadrian’s physicality that caught his attention. Viktor thought it was more likely the slightly dangerous vibe you got from him, when you choose to actually pay attention.

 

He knew that many disregarded this instinctual warning and took the teen at face value; attractive, polite, shy and clever…never tagging the word dangerous or seductive on. But Viktor was not most people and unlike most people, this hint of peril only enticed him more. Of course a large part of it was the fact that pursuing a liaison with ‘the enemy’ would rankle Karakoff’s anal feathers.

 

He had tried to pay extra attention to nuances during his past month of conversation with the teen, looking for a hint that the teen would be receptive to a more intimate relationship. He thought he had a fair chance. He had not missed how Hadrian and his friend Iztal orbited one another, or the heated glares Iztal sent him whenever he engaged in conversation…cough..flirted…with Hadrian. Krum recognized from Hadrian’s own attentive reactions to Iztal’s moods that he likely returned his friends feelings.

 

But once again Krum did not particularly care, he wasn’t looking for something serious; at most he risked little and might gain a few good one offs. It would be enough to piss of his keeper, testing just how far he could push him and well if Viktor got some good sex out of it….where was the harm?

 

Speaking of which, this might just be the opportunity that he had hoped for. He had noted that while Hadrian might be disdainful of Quiditch his eyes still lit up when Krum spoke of flying.

 

Krum hurried his steps to catch up with Hadrian who was strolling leisurely in the direction of the lake. “Hadrian!” he shouted to catch the retreating teen’s attention.

 

Hadrian spun to face him, looking slightly startled as if Krum had interrupted him mid-thought; he paused a moment before a smile of recognition slid into place.

“Krum” Hadrian nodded in greeting, his voice soft and controlled.

 

Come to think of it Krum was not sure if he had ever heard the boy speak louder than the quiet tone he employed now. Somehow he managed to convey all of his meaning and emotion with just the slightest change of inflection. Krum was not sure how he did it.

 

“How are you? What can I do for you?” Hadrian continued turning to resume his meandering gate now that Krum was caught up to him.

 

“Good. Vas Vondering if you vould vant to go flying with me?” Krum asked. He truly hated how broken his English was, but no matter how hard he studied the stupid language he could not get rid of his heavy accent.

 

“Flying? I’m afraid I don’t own a broom, not to mention I doubt I could match your caliber, you would likely be rather bored.” Hadrian answered his voice containing light laughter.

 

“No, promise I vould not. I haff extra broom if you like?” Krum shot down Hadrian’s mild protests, mentally holding his breath. He had been pretty sure the raven haired teen had returned his flirtations these past weeks, but perhaps he was mistaken?

 

Hadrian came to a stop and studied him for a moment before replying, “Very well, is now good? I have to meet Iztal in 2 hours but that leaves plenty of time, no?”

 

Krum grinned, feeling slightly like a foolish school girl “That is acceptable, I vill meet you on back here?, I vill grab broom for you.”

 

Hadrian simply smiled in agreement, the Hogwart’s Quiditch pitch was currently roped off by invisible barriers. Karkaroff had speculated it was likely related to one of the tasks. The tasks, which Viktor was trying very hard not to think about at the moment. Karkaroff had informed him that the first task had something to do with dragons, a revelation that had made Viktor want to mount his broom and fly immediately back to Bulgaria.

 

He had been debating on whether or not to let Hadrian know, the boy was three years younger than him and regardless how powerful his magic felt, he doubted that a fourth year would know the same set of skills a seventh year did. While Viktor was competitive by nature, he also didn’t want his ‘friend’ to die just because he chose not to share this detail. He would wait and see how today went he supposed.

 

Fifteen minutes later both teens were soaring through the air at speeds that most sane people would not attempt. Viktor looked over at the twisting and diving figure of Hadrian, it was the first time he had ever seen the teen smile, well really smile… it was breath taking. Hadrian let out a whoop of pure joy, something that the normally reserved boy, would never have done with both feet on the ground. Krum could not help but be swept up in Hadrian’s buoyant mood. The next hour and a half consisted of more and more dangerous air stunts, attempts to knock each other of their brooms and simple flying.

 

Viktor couldn’t keep his smile off his face as they both landed, wind tousled and slightly breathless. It was not every day that the sullen Quiditch player had anything but a scowl adorning his face, but he couldn’t help it. When Hadrian was truly smiling with a look of pure ecstasy, well it was hard not to respond.

 

“Thank-you! That was brilliant…I don’t recall the last time I went flying” Hadrian stated, genuine thanks in his voice as he leaned over to brush grass off his knees from an earlier not so successful dive.

 

“It vas my pleasure…” Krum answered moving closer to the flushed teen. Hadrian was once again standing up right and watching his moves attentively. He made no move to come toward the Bulgarian but neither did he try to retreat.

 

“Viktor….” Hadrian trailed off, sounding slightly hesitant.

 

“You are very good flyer Hadarian” Viktor continued his advance careful to maintain eye contact, mispronouncing Hadrian’s name slightly.

 

The smaller teen gave a small indulgent smile at this, and stilled as Viktor’s hand reached out tentatively to stroke along the angle of his jaw. Hadrian’s breath caught and he stood his eyes transfixed to Krum’s towering frame.

 

\-----------mild smut---skip if you do not like-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I’ve like you….I think youv liked me too…I am wrong?” Viktor head bent closer to him, his whispered words brushing against Hadrian’s ear.

 

Hadrian’s breath became shallower and he shivered at the feel of Krum’s continued caress, now tracing his cheekbone, “n-no” Hadrian managed to breath out.

 

“Good” Viktor replied with all the brash forwardness, one might attribute to an international quiditch star and captured Hadrian’s lips in a demanding kiss. It was anything but the soft, sweet, peck one might expect of a first kiss, but it suited Viktor. He was used to getting what he wanted and did not like to waste time with trivialities. He was used to being the one in control.

 

Which was why he was surprised when Hadrian started to kiss him back just as aggressively. Hadrian bit down sharply on his lower lip and he gasped at the sensation allowing Hadrian’s tongue to enter his mouth. He was surprised to find, he did not mind the loss of control, as he snaked his hand tighter around Hadrian’s slim waist and began to tug at the bottom of his shirt, desperate to contact more skin. Hadrian pressed his body flush against the older boy, noting proof of Viktor’s interest as he felt something hard press into his thigh.

 

Krum didn’t even try to suppress his groan as he slip his hands lower to cup Hadrian’s ass. He received what sounded like a hiss in answer. He pulled back from the kiss and latched onto the visible, pale skin on of Hadrian’s neck. He felt a heat coil in his stomach and an ache in his cock that was barely relieved as he ground against the younger boy.

 

“Hadrian” a sharp, arctic voice interrupted their frenzied groping. Viktor dropped his hands from Hadrian and took a quick step back as if scalded.

 

\---------------end smut------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hadrian spun towards the owner of that voice, a deep crimson flushed over his face as he saw who it was. Iztal.

 

Viktor cursed silently in his head, of all the people to catch them mid-snog, it had to be the one person who Hadrian respected enough, to not return to said snog.

 

Hadrian coughed, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, “Iztal…I thought we were supposed to meet in the library?”

 

“We were…half an hour ago” Iztal stated coldly, his face a blank mask.

 

“Oh….I-I guess I lost track of time” Hadrian replied looking embarrassed.

 

“I’m sure” Iztal stated, completely ignoring Viktor’s awkward hovering, in favor of giving the boy a sharp glare.

 

Hadrian seemed unsure at his friend’s cold behavior, but sighed, “look I am sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait or inconvenience you. It just sort of happened.” He directed at Iztal convinced that this blank mask was over irritation of being made to wait.

 

“No, no you looked quite busy. Please don’t worry about keeping set meetings. Really, people do not want their prospective leader to be reliable after all. It is too late to get anything done now. Forget it” Iztal all but snarled, the first real emotion coming into his voice, before spinning around and abruptly marching back towards the school.

 

“Iztal! Wait!” Hadrian shouted after him, but Iztal did not pause or turn around. Hadrian sighed in irritation muttering under his breathe. Krum caught something that sounded a lot like “impatient Bastard,” before Hadrian turned back to Krum. “Sorry, I um should probably head back now….uh thanks for flying and um….everything” He blushed again, his words not near as smooth as they usually were.

 

“No Problem, if you vant to go…flying again…” Viktor replied smiling suggestively to the flustered teen.

 

Hadrian gave him a quick smile before turning and retreating in the same direction his friend had gone, back to the castle.

 

Viktor sighed and watched him go. ‘Ah well’ he thought, ‘perhaps I will have another chance before the task.’ He belatedly realized he had forgotten all about telling Hadrian about the dragons. He pushed this worry aside; he would try and catch him tonight. As for now he had a rather hard problem to take care of. One he would have to take care of by himself it seemed.

 

Stupid interruption. He though moodily

 

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

 

Hadrian stopped himself from pacing back and forth in the champions tent. ‘ **Dragons!** ’ he thought a tad hysterical ‘ **what the hell are they doing bringing dragons? Are they bloody insane?’**

The last week had flown by with more than a little irritation for Hadrian. Iztal was once again being an ass, why, Hadrian could not discern. The moody teen had started acting aloof and cold again almost immediately after catching Hadrian and Krum kissing. At first, Hadrian had thought that he was just irritated about not being the center of the universe for once, that and being made to wait. Hadrian knew how much Iztal despised waiting. But, as Iztal continued to ignore him throughout the week he thought there had to be more too it. For such a tiny infraction, Iztal was acting like a royal jackass.

 

The only reason Hadrian could think of was that Iztal was homophobic. He wouldn’t have thought that his friend would abide by such stupid muggle prejudices but it was the only thing that made sense. It would explain why Iztal had glared at Viktor earlier in the week, whenever the Bulgarian flirted with him. He sighed. He hated when Iztal acted like this, it made everything so much more difficult. ‘ **Well, he’ll just have to get over himself** ’ Hadrian thought angrily, he refused to change a key part of himself just to suit Iztal’s sensibilities.

 

He glared over at the teen, who at the moment was engaged in his own brand of flirting with the lovely Miss Fleur, acting as if facing off with a dragon was no big deal. ‘ **Stupid ignorant asshole, stupid blond veela’** he thought petulantly kicking at the dirt floor. He missed how Iztal kept stealing glances over at his side of the tent.

 

He heard a roar from the crowd, followed by a gasp. He hoped Viktor was doing okay; the Bulgarian seeker had drawn the first position to attempt stealing the golden egg from the nesting mother dragon.

 

He hadn’t had another chance to speak, much less see, the seeker after their interrupted kiss... much to his chagrin. He was pretty sure Viktor was not looking for anything serious, which was perfectly fine with Hadrian; he did hope the seeker meant what he implied. Hadrian had enjoyed their…conversation.

 

The thunderous cheer announced that Viktor was successful, Hadrian let out a soft sigh of relief. He might not care all that much for Krum outside of his skill set, but he was glad he hadn’t been maimed…well at least he thought he hadn’t. Surely, the crowd wouldn’t be so elated if he had….then he recalled what he knew of the French revolution and the American race riots. Well, perhaps they might. He shook these grisly images from his mind and tried to focus on just what he was going to do to get by a rather large, angry dragon.

 

He knew a lot of magic, but as far as spells went, he really could not think of anything to outwit a dragon. He could try and confound the dragon, but he would have to hit it directly between the eyes and given his nerves he was not sure he would manage that. He could transfigure something, in hopes of enticing the dragon to chase it. No, that would likely only work for a short time.

 

He was fast, if he didn’t have to worry about the fire the Horntail was likely going to shoot at him, he could probably manage…. **wait, maybe** ….it was a long shot but at this point he really did not have time to think of something better. He looked up as the crowd cheered for their third time. Iztal had made it. Hadrian let out another shaky breath of relief. Thank god.

 

Hadrian felt like he was in a pressure bubble as he made is way out to the shielded dragon enclosure. He knew the crowd was probably cheering but he couldn’t hear the noise over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears and his harsh breathing. ‘ **Great** ’ he thought remotely, his mind and body feeling disconnected, ‘that **would be grand…fainting in front of the whole school and then being roasted alive, that would be sure to serve as adequate entertainment.’**

He stared up at the massive, pissed off, dragon that was pacing its enclosure. The noise from the crowd and so many possible ‘threats’ so close to her nest, was making her even more volatile than normal. Hadrian forced himself to take another deep breath and focus on the feel of his magic. He really had no idea if this was going to work, he prayed it did. He really was much too young to die.

 

He forced his magic out of his body so that it encased him in a protective dome, he concentrated even harder on the shield and it morphed into what looked like light blue flames, dancing merrily around him. He then picked up his feet and ran.

 

He jumped, dived and dodged to the best of his ability. He managed to get to the nest and grab the egg but was not quite fast enough in his dive on his way back. He felt a searing heat engulf him; it felt like he had been directly immersed into the pits of hell. ‘ **Hmm, maybe Matron Madix was right…I have gone to hell** ’ He forced himself to ignore the sweltering heat and continue to run towards the exit. Thankfully, when he started to run the heat vanished. He heard the screams and cries of the crowd and a couple that seemed much closer.

 

He threw a glance over his shoulders and saw that the dragon tamers had jumped into the pen. ‘ **Dammit** ’ he thought, ‘ **Could they not have waited until I was out?** ’ Just as that thought was forming, he felt something sharp and hard slice into his shoulder. He let out a hiss of pain, almost dropping his egg. He managed to keep hold and duck into a roll, coming up at the enclosures exit. He lay there panting for a moment as the crowd’s applause nearly shook the roof.

 

It took him a few seconds to realize that he had done it. He had not been burned to a crisp.

 

He would find out from Draco later what had actually happened. Apparently, his magic (which returned swiftly to his body) had been adequate in protecting him from the dragon’s flames. His missed dive had caused the Horntail to send a rather power blast, that caught him directly in the center of the blast. The Dragon tamers had panicked; sure that he was now mere ash (there is hardly anything that can withstand dragon fire), and jumped into to try and confound the dragon.

 

The dragon now, with a new target had turned swiftly to face the threat and had consequently swept her very spike filled tail at Hadrian. One of the end spikes had caught his shoulder. Draco was enraged that the judges had docked him points for this injury, stating that it was really the dragon tamers not Hadrian’s fault. He had managed the fastest time however, so the loss of points had not completely ruined his standings. He would hear later that Iztal was in first, He and Viktor had tied for second and Fleur in third. He may or may not have smiled vindictively at the blond’s low score.

 

But for now, all he wanted to do was lie in the dirt and not move. He was vaguely aware of several hands hoisting him to his feet and walking him into the first air tent. He gave another hiss of pain when someone (likely Madame Pomfery) removed his shirt and started poking at his mangled shoulder. Several cusses later and a few sharp reprimands, his shoulder was covered in paste and wrapped with a sling.

 

He sighed in relief now that the stinging had abated and lay carefully back. He was relieved to say that at least the stupid task was over with. Considering he had not wanted anything to DO with this tournament, it hardly seemed fair that the judges chose dragons for the first task. He shuddered at the thought of what they would choose for the second and third. He was interrupted from his morbid thoughts by a quiet shuffling of fabric.

 

He sat up abruptly, hissing again as he knocked his shoulder in his haste before turning to see who it was.

 

“Careful you moron. You are going to re-tear it” Iztal admonished, a worried frown marring his face.

 

Hadrian scowled, ‘ **just what I need right now’** he thought darkly. “What do you want?” he asked abruptly shrugging away Iztal’s hovering hand.

 

“I heard you were injured, I wanted to make sure you were okay” Iztal replied looking confused by the question.

 

‘Why do you even care?” Hadrian spat, before interrupting whatever Iztal was about to say, “No, wait. I don’t care. I am sick of this bullshit, Iztal. I am tired of always having to figure out what tiny little thing I’ve done wrong to warrant your latest mood. I am sorry if I disgusted you by kissing another guy, but I refuse to take it back! For once in our lives Iztal grow up and stop acting like a child!” Hadrian’s ended his rant abruptly and glared at Iztal.

 

Iztal stared at him in stunned silence. It wasn’t often that Hadrian went off on him. Then the words Hadrian spoke caught up with him. “Wait! What? You think I was pissed because you were kissing a guy?” he asked

 

Now, it was Hadrian’s turn to look a little unsure. “Well, yeah…after you’ve been acting like a complete dick all week, ever since seeing me and Viktor kiss, I would say I was safe to assume that. Look I sorry if that wierds you out. But honestly Iztal, I thought you of all people wouldn’t share some narrow minded muggle belief.” Hadrian answered slowly.

 

Hadrian startled when Iztal let out a short laugh. “No, Hadrian I was not mad because you were kissing a guy….I would have had that same reaction if you had been kissing a girl” He stated, waiting for Hadrian to sort out his words.

 

“Well then why….wait what?” Hadrian asked, his eyes widening.

 

“I know I can be a…what was it you called it? Oh yes, an asshole. I know I can be cruel and petty. I recognize I am jealous and possessive, Hadrian. And honestly none of this normally bothers me….except with you.” Iztal said softly approaching cautiously as if Hadrian was a wounded animal rather than a confused teen.

 

There was silence for a moment, before recognition dawned Hadrian’s face, “W-wait, are- are you trying to say that you’ve been acting like a prat because, because you were jealous?!” He stuttered out looking incredulous.

 

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying” Iztal stated, now standing between Hadrian’s legs staring intently at the raven haired boy.

 

“Oh” Hadrian replied faintly.

 

The next thing his mind registered was a pair of soft lips pressing against his own mouth,

 

…that, and the possible explosion of the universe as he knew it.


	15. The art of following

** Chapter 14: The art of following  **

_“Sheep are always looking for a new shepherd when the terrain gets rocky.” ―_ [ _Karen Marie Moning_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/48206.Karen_Marie_Moning) _,_ [ _Iced_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/17427104)

“Okay, that is enough…are you even paying attention, Hadrian? HADRIAN” Hermione all but shouted.

Hadrian head jerked up and he gave her a sheepish smile, because in all truth he hadn’t been paying attention to her now increasingly frequent lecture on his secrets, his dodging of her questions and his frequent absences.

It’s not that he particularly ENJOYED keeping enough secrets to put the MI6 to shame, but he was still not sure how she would react to some of his ‘secrets.’ Not that any of those said secrets were what had been distracting him just now. No, that had to do with something that was decidedly not secret. So, not secret, that the entire school had somehow become privy to it.

Hadrian and Iztal’s scandalous affair. Of course it was no one’s business, who the prince of Slytherin decided to bugger, but that did not stop anyone from thinking it was their business. Hadrian could only assume that word about their rendezvous, had been spread by a non-Slytherin, he did not think any of their house mates would have dared.

After a serried of rather painful looking and long lasting curses at the hand of Iztal’s wand, everyone in Slytherin had come to the agreement it was definitely not their business nor their concern. While Hadrian may not have approved entirely on how Iztal had handled things, he had to admit he liked the results. It was rather nice to be able to spend time in the common room without having to worry about blatant (there were still plenty of covert ones) stares and whispers erupting the moment he entered.

Hadrian could put up with these small inconveniences; what he was getting for doing so, was so very worth it. If he had thought kissing Viktor was pleasant, it was nothing, and I mean nothing compared to kissing Iztal. He didn’t know if it was result of the years of built up tension between the two, or their version of insane trust. Sure, most normal people would deny that how they acted towards each other was anywhere near trusting or affectionate, but that just proved how little they knew them, and how right they truly were for one another.

Hadrian knew he could never be happy with an affectionate, loving partner. He was much too damaged to be the recipient of that type of affection. No, he was much more suited to the barely veiled jealous, possessiveness and lust that was Iztal. And Merlin that tongue….

Hadrian shook his head again, before he could get sucked back into his rather dirty imagination and redirected his thoughts to the current issue. Ah, yes….trust. Hermione…

Well, maybe…he supposed it was time to see if he could. He had danced and played with both Hermione and Draco’s devotion to him more than enough. If he had not swayed them by now, then he might as well move on. He pushed the twinge in his gut away; no. it was not time to become a sentimental fool, despite how he might react to Iztal. If he could not trust Hermione and Draco with this, than he had to cut ties.

“Alright” Hadrian stated cutting off the tirade that was spewing from the bushy haired, brunette’s lips, “Alright, I am going to share some of my plans and ideas with the two of you…but this is in strict confidence. What I tell you cannot be spread around school, understood?” Hadrian asked looking seriously at both of them.

“Of course, you can trust us….well trust me anyway I would never dishonor my family’s name by breaking your trust” Draco stated snootily.

Hadrian bit back a smile, some things would never change.

“I can keep a secret just as well as you can” Hermione spit at Draco looking affronted.

Hadrian interrupted before they could really wind each other up, “Good, here is not the place. Meet me in our room in….” he glanced at the pocket watch Iztal had given him, for Christmas last year, “fifteen minutes.”

Both of his friends nodded their heads in agreement, before hurriedly stuffing their homework into their respective bags (Draco’s the finest dragon leather, Hermione’s, a muggle looking brief case).

Hadrian leisurely made his way up to the room of requirements, he had shared this room (if not his other special room, the one he had deemed ‘the grey room’… given the knowledge it possessed) with both Draco and Hermione. They had used it to practice new curses he chose to teach them, or for a private place to talk, (Hermione could not be expected to come to the Slytherin common room, and anywhere else in the school had way too many busy bodies for sensitive conversations).

He ignored Ronald Weasley’s hissed insult ‘Fucking, slimy snake,’ and what he was sure the boy thought was a death glare (really did he now know Hadrian had been subjected to Iztal’s glares on a near daily basis his first year? Ronald’s attempt was just made him look constipated) and arrived in record time to the specified room.

He was mildly surprised, that Hermione and Draco only took five minutes longer to arrive, apparently they really did want to learn a few of his well guarded secrets. When all three of them were comfortably situated in the overstuffed arm chairs, Hadrian cleared his throat and began.

He shared his ambitions and how he had found the ‘grey room’, he spoke of the knowledge it had imparted to him and his training. He explained his own wariness at the supposed ‘light’ side’s superiority, and quickly explained how this did not mean he supported the ‘dark’ sides goals unconditionally, (when he noted Hermione’s outraged disbelief and Draco’s smug superior looks). At their mutual confusion, he explained his ideas and plans for creating a third side to the war. He spoke of how magic and power where what was important, not whether or not something was deemed light or dark.

 

He explained how wizard’s prejudices and stereo types had led to the first war. How neither side could win completely and suppress the other, without their being catastrophic backlash. He spoke and explained and pleaded his case for close to two hours. When he had said his last, he fell silent and sat back to see how his words had been received.

He hoped that both Hermione and Draco could get over their past biases, long enough to consider the wisdom in his words. And if not he could always oblivate them…he had perfected the wandless version, earlier in the year after all.

Both of the teens stared back at him in stunned silence for several long minutes, finally Hermione broke it by stating, “Wow, I had no idea you were that ambitious Hadrian…but isn’t this type of thing that you-know-who was all about?” she asked worriedly.

Hadrian studied her for a minute, she was worried for him, she wasn’t condemning him or refusing to listen she was simply stating her questions and concerns, he could work with that.

He gave her a small patient smile before answering, “Yes, Voldmort” he ignored the flinches of both Draco and Hermione, “was of political mind back in school, or at least from what the rumors have stated but there is a major difference. Voldmort was all about blood supremacy and championing the dark arts…” Hadrian gave Draco a glare as the blond was about to protest before continuing, “no, don’t deny it Draco, Voldmort was as infatuated with having the dark inclined, witches and wizards rule as Dumbledore Is for the light. The difference is that I am neither for nor against dark or light magic. I believe that they should both exist, but that they should Co-Exist, equally. Or as equally as is possible in a diverse population. We need to work on creating unity rather than division between magical beings. And yes I mean ALL magical beings…muggleborn, purebloods, vampires, werewolves, mermen…you get the picture. If not we will bring about our own destruction. It is only a matter of time before our fighting becomes noticed by muggles and we are not quick enough or strong enough to make them forget. There are Billions of them. Even if we have the magic to destroy huge numbers, they could wipe us out simply by overwhelming us. We need to become united and start working to preserve our magics and increase our numbers, it is our only hope.”

Hermione still looked a tad skeptical and Draco was brimming with questions and criticisms to Hadrian’s theory, but over the next hour of questions (from Draco and Hermione) and answers (from Hadrian, no matter that some of them were rather evasive), he slowly convinced them. By the time that the three teens realized they had most definitely had missed supper, Hadrian was pretty sure he had secured their loyalty.

“Alright, you win. I would hate to lose you as a friend and I will always have your back Hadrian. Just let me know what I can do” Hermione finally stated, her tone and expression the utmost sincere.

Hadrian gave a mental sigh of relief, it had taken some effort but he hoped that it would pay off in the end. “Thank you Hermione” he rewarded her with a soft smile, which made the bushy haired girl blush with pleasure.

Not to be out done, Draco spoke up, “You can count on me as well. I swear my loyalty to you….” He paused for a second before adding, “My lord.”

Hadrian did not even try to conceal his pleased smile at Draco’s address; instead he leaned over and kissed Draco’s head gently before stating, “Thank you Draco, I will not abuse this trust.” Draco, if possible looked even more pleased at the reaction he had managed to get from his now, Lord.

“Well, I do believe we have spent enough time on this. Why don’t we stop by the kitchen and grab a bite?” Hadrian spoke up effectively breaking the seriousness that had fallen over the three.

“Good idea” Hermione answered, “I had wanted to speak to the house elves anyway. I think I am really close to convincing them to speak up on their rights…”

Draco immediately launched into a series of derogatory comments about her intelligence, and muggleborn soft hearted tendencies.

Hadrian rolled his eyes fondly as they fell into their normal pattern of arguing and insulting each other.

They were not his friends….no, they were something much better. They were his followers.


	16. The art of coming together

** Chapter 15: The art of coming together  **

**_When spiders unite, they can tie down a lion._** _ **—**_ _Ethiopian Proverb_ ”

The next few months of the Triwizard Tournament, turned out to be nothing but a headache for one Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

While for most people, the Second task came and went without cause for alarm. It did however leave; one rather frazzled Albus Dumbledore, an even more bouncy Mr. Bagman, and one rather dour, scowling, Percy Weasley (whom by this point in the tale was acting as a stand in for Mr. Crouch).

The issues surrounding this second task related to none other than Hadrian Jameson and Iztal Kuruo, of course. Initially, the judges had wanted and designed the champion’s clues to hint that someone they loved dearly would be taken from them and would need rescuing.

This task of course, was set to test the champion’s logic and clue solving abilities, as well as their heroism (aka: willingness to sacrifice their own safety for those they loved). Dumbledore of course had thought up the task, and right up until it hit a snag had been rather smug with the whole idea.

He was of course still thrilled with the power that Hadrian had demonstrated in the first task and was even more certain that he would be able to use the boy. Of course, in his now increasingly addled brain the fact that Hadrian continued to elude any of his attempts at conversation, much less allow him a modicum of control over the Hadrian’s person, did not seem to register. In his mind, he was Albus Dumbledore and he could do what he wanted, when he wanted.

The second task, started to be a headache when the cup spit out Iztal Kurou’s name for Hadrian’s person he would miss most, and vice versa for Iztal. This of course would not work as both champions were expected to compete. It did not matter how many times Albus attempted to draw another name for either of the boys out, the cup refused to cooperate. It was most irksome.

In the end they decided to change the task slightly and had the champion’s retrieve one of four colored stones from the bottom of the lake. Each of the stones had a different animal carved on it; the animal serve to represent what challenges that champion would face in their next task.

The task itself went smoothly, Fleur had placed first, bringing with her a dark blue stone with a silver fox carved in the side; Dumbledore informed her that this stone indicated that her wits and cleverness would be put to test in the next task.

Oddly enough, both Iztal and Hadrian emerged from the icy water at the same time, tying for second place. Iztal had brought a bright green stone with a blood red snake on it, while Hadrian’s stone was gold with the carving of a dog on it. Dumbledore cheerfully informed them that the stones indicated that slyness/or cunning would be the characteristics that Iztal’s challenge would be based on, while loyalty and courage would be the basis for what Hadrian would faced.

Finally, Krum who had found difficulty with his human transfiguration came in last, bringing a Red stone with a golden lion, which the crowd learned would test his physical prowess and strength. All in all, the task was eventually sorted and pulled off without too much difficulty.

No, what really had Dumbledore’s knickers in a twist revolved around the planned Yule Tide ball. This headache was brought by the very stubborn and enraged Madame Maxime. She firmly brought her foot down stating that it was outrageous that her students were expected, to miss spending the holidays with their families. Especially, since they had already been forced to leave their homes and country for the entirety of the year. She firmly refused to be reasoned with.

When Albus had tried to guilt her into cooperation, using not wanting certain schools to get preferential treatment and disrupt the tournament for the rest of them she became even more incensed. She had been rather quick mention the fact that Hogwarts had TWO champions while the other schools had only one. After many hours of yelling and idle threats from both sides, plus a vote from the champions it was decided that the Yule Tide ball would be changed to a Ostara Dance (Spring), to take place mid-march. The students were told that it was partially to celebrate the completion of the second task as well as to welcome a new yearly awakening with nature, as was traditional to many magical families.

What Dumbledore was not aware of was that Madame Maxime had been convinced to disagree with the Christmas break ball by one Fleur Delecour. And Fleur Delecour had been convinced by one Iztal Kuruo, who had of course been convinced by Hadrian Jameson. The reasoning behind this rather elaborate set of manipulations related to the fact that both Hadrian and Iztal had made other plans for the holidays. For once, they had not planned on staying at the school to read and research, no they had decided it was time to start laying the groundwork for Hadrian’s goals.

Iztal had always been vague on his willingness to support Hadrian’s ambitions, but following the first task, a certain kiss and a further understanding that they belonged to one another and that neither was willing to release this hold, Iztal had been much more supportive. Well, supportive for Iztal anyway. He still over analyzed every suggestion, tried to control a majority of their actions and decisions, and generally believed he was the one in charge. Hadrian knew better however, and if Iztal had chosen to reflect on things, rather than pointedly ignoring them, he would have known this to.

At some point in the past five years, Hadrian had managed to worm his way in and twist things around. Similar to how he had changed the power balance between himself and Draco all those years ago, he had done the same with Iztal. Perhaps not to the same degree but there was no true question of who was calling the shots. He might not do so obviously, but he was always there twisting and maneuvering things so that they happened exactly how he wanted, even if he had never made a direct suggestion.

But back to Christmas break, the reasoning the boys did NOT want to be trapped at a school dance was because they had already arranged to attend several Christmas parties and dances of their own.

But, Dumbledore did not know this. No, if he had his headache might have been just tad worse.

………………………………………………

“You look lovely, Hermione” Hadrian complemented the now, far less bushy, haired girl in front of him.

“Why thank you my good sir, although I don’t think I will be doing this very often, it took forever to make my hair obey…I wish I had your hair, it always looks perfect” Hermione answered with an uncharacteristic giggle, tugging playfully on a loose strand of escape hair. Hadrian allowed it; he had been affording both Hermione and Draco far more liberties since their proclamations of loyalty.

“Were exactly is your date?” Draco sneered straightening his silver dress robes out and looking impatient. He was in a rather foul mood because Pansy had cornered him and wrung an acceptance to the dance out of him. She had steadfastly refused to acknowledge that Draco was now officially betrothed to another and seemed to be under the delusion that if she just tried, just a little bit harder he would break it off and run away with her. Draco for his part was not enjoying this attention in the least.

“Drakey, why don’t we just head in now? It’s not like we need to wait for the mud..” Pansey whined with her nasally voice but broke off at the venomous glare Hadrian was sending her.

For the most part Hadrian allowed Draco and Hermione to fight their own battles, especially with one another, however it did not mean he approved of the ignorant slurs so many pure bloods seemed to be obsessed with. That and he really just did not like Parkinson; he found her irritating, whiney and stupid. This of course could have been partly due to her pursuing him persistently for most of second year (when she wasn’t after Iztal) because she believed one of them, was the Heir’s of Slytherin.

Some rather adamant dissuasion later and she had resumed targeting Draco, which was fine with both of the other boys.

“Who are you going with anyway?” Iztal asked his voice dripping with boredom. He really was only speaking to Hermione, because he was trying to make up for an earlier argument with Hadrian. The small smile he received from Hadrian showed that his efforts were not missed.

“Um, well…” Hermione stuttered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Before she could continue her date interrupted.

“That vould be me” Viktor stated stepping up and placing a chaste kiss on the blushing girl’s cheek. He then turned to the rest of the group taking his time to assess everyone’s evening formal wear.

“Good Evening Hadaran, you look very nice” He stated staring intently at the smaller teen, ignoring the rest of the group. Hadrian shifted looking uncomfortable, Draco looked puzzled, Hermione calculating, and Iztal angry.

“Um…thank you Viktor, you clean up nicely yourself… Iztal…should be enter?” Hadrian replied nervously before grasping Iztal’s arm firmly.

Viktor seemed disgruntled by the brush off, but quickly moved to offer his arm to Hermione.

Another thing the champions had refused was the ‘Champion’s dance and entrance,’ which all, with the exception of Fleur, had thought was old fashioned and unnecessary.

Hadrian was more than ready to move past the awkward tension and just try and enjoy the evening, it seemed however that Iztal was not. “Would you stop already? Come on, we are already late, let’s just go in and find a spot to sit….” He hissed at a glaring Iztal.

“Fine, lead the way” Iztal replied curtly.

Hadrian sighed and pulled slightly on their adjoined arms, walking into the lavishly decorated great Hall. He snuck another glance at his glaring boyfriend, and a quick one over his shoulder at the leering Bulgarian and let out another sigh.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hadrian, Iztal, Draco, Pansey and a few of their Slytherin house mates all sat around one of the many circular tables, that had been pushed to the side to make room for dancing. Viktor and Hermione were currently out on the dance floor, but not before Viktor had more than enough time to continue to flirt and lace most of his conversation with innuendo, all directed of course not at his own dance partner but Hadrian.

It had been over three hours since the start of the dance and things had not improved in the least from their initial greetings. Iztal had only consented to dancing with Hadrian once, and only after an almost embarrassing amount of begging and pleading from the raven haired teen. Even so, he had remained stiff and aloof the entire dance and had gone right back to ignoring Hadrian in favor of talking to Fredrick, one of his classmates.

Hadrian, for one thought he was being incredibly childish, considering he wasn’t even the one who was flirting. All, in all between the awkward silences, inappropriate remarks and the cold shoulder, Hadrian was not enjoying the blasted dance one bit.

He was actually relieved when the dour potions master approached him part way through yet another long silence.

“Mr. Jameson, may I have a word?” Professor Snape enquired, in his infamous threatening voice (the one that promised you were most likely going to end up in tiny pieces in his next potion).

“Of course, Professor. If you’ll excuse me” Hadrian agreed with a nod of his head and quick explanation to the table at large. Iztal didn’t even stop his conversation. Hadrian narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together, when he was finished talking with Snape, they were going to have words, whether Iztal wanted to or not.

Hadrian had continued meeting with the Potions master several evenings a week and they had continued their burgeoning ‘’friendship.’ Hadrian had slowly been opening up to his Professor starting to share more and more of his opinions on magic, and the current issues with the Minstery.

Earlier in the month he had finally shared his plans with Severus. Severus, of course had been rather shocked. He had realized that Hadrian was ambitious, but had not really given consideration to the fact that the boy might want to do something, with that ambition or so soon. At first Severus had been a little disturbed; the similarities between Hadrian Jameson and a young Tom Riddle were just too much. But, once he had calmed down and actually listened to the boy, he had started to see that they had just as many differences as similarities. Eventually, he had agreed to align himself with the boy, not only because of his vow to Lily but simply for the fact that Hadrian’s believes on magic where much more in line with his own, then either Voldmort’s or Dumbledore’s.

Hadrian followed Severus outside to a secluded area of the garden and waited until Severus had erected several privacy and anti-awareness wards. He watched as a large beetle was all but thrown from the small area that Severus had secured. ‘Curious’ Hadrian thought briefly watching the slightly smoking beetle fly away. Before shaking his head and turning to face the potion’s professor, “Any news Severus?” Hadrian asked dropping the formal address.

“Actually yes, things are going quite well, the coven leader that you and Iztal met with over Christmas has agreed. He had stated that he is not interested in getting his or any of his aligned covens involved in direct fighting, but after listening to your arguments and plans has agreed to lend you support should you need it” Snape quickly filled him in.

Hadrian grinned feeling his bad mood dissipate, that was good news. He had not been sure, after their meeting with Alron Camorra, the head of one of the most powerful vampire covens in Britain, but from the sounds of it, it had gone better then he thought.

“And your partner? Did he get a chance to talk with some of the packs?” Hadrian asked

Although many of Snape’s potions students had started rumors that their professor was actually an asexual Satanist, the truth was Snape had been seeing their former Defense teacher Remus Lupin for the better part of a year and a half. Apparently the two had had a secret affair when they were students. Hadrian did not know, nor really want to know the details. The only reason he was aware they were seeing each other, was because he had the misfortune of coming across them in a rather….compromising position when Snape forgot he was meeting with the youth to work on a new potion.

Professor or former professor Lupin had been forced to leave his teaching position after news of his werewolf status got leaked to the press.

“Yes, I discussed it with him; he is still a little leery about all of this. He was a very strong Dumbledore proponent in the first war, but after certain things happened, following Voldmort’s downfall, he is a little less so. He has mentioned some of your ideas to a few pack leaders…Greyback’s pack of course is firmly behind Voldmort, so he did not bother approaching them, but a few of the other packs are willing to meet and negotiate depending on how things go” Snape replied.

Hadrian nodded not put out, he had expected some initial reluctance, after all these were fairly radical ideas and he was proposing to stand between two very powerful wizards.

It was good they were questioning, if they had just blindly followed that would have made them morons, and he had no use for morons. He couldn’t wait to see their expressions when they learned the proposed leader for this third side was a fourteen year old boy.

“Excellent, I snuck off last week and met up with Destinor…” Hadrian began, but was cut off my Severus.

“I thought the Centaur’s stayed firmly out of human business” Snape said sharply.

“Well yes, normally they do. I was actually trying to see if I could speak with the Satyr, but ended up running into Destinor and a few others. I thought for sure they were there to warn me to stay out of the forest, but instead he went on and on, talking about stars and alignment, and something about magic and destiny. Anyway, what matters is that the Centaurs are actually willing to take sides this time and they are siding with us!” Hadrian explained unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Severus looked stunned, “b-but, they never….I don’t think they have ever chosen a side before” he said somewhat shakily.

Hadrian nodded, his eyes shining, “I know! This is really good news for us Sev, Draco has started to put feelers out to the pureblood families he knows, testing the water to see which are truly loyal to Voldmort and which might be looking for a way out. Hermione has been doing the same, talking with some of the other muggle raised students. Most of them just throw their lot in with Dumbledore because they don’t know any different or have any other option”

Severus could not keep the slightly vicious looking smile off of his face. He had never really expected Hadrian to be able to put much together, he was still but a child after all. Severus may have been sick of the other sides, but he had mainly agreed to follow the boy out of old loyalty to his long dead mother, but now for the first time in more than a decade, he felt a sliver of hope trying to break free of its tightly locked container.

Hadrian sighed and glanced down at his pocket watch, “Alright I had better get back before someone…” they both got a dark look on their face thinking of the long grey bearded someone he was alluding to “…notices my absence and decides to get suspicious. Keep your ears open to anything you think I should know… from either of the megalomaniacs. I’ll see you tomorrow” Hadrian gave him a quick smile before starting to dismantle the wards.

“Don’t be late, and you had better have that essay finished” Severus stated replacing his rare smile with his more usual glare.

“But of course professor, have I ever NOT had my essay done on time?” Hadrian answered his tone ripe with innocence, his smirk not so much.

Severus glared and muttered something under his breath before stalking away. Hadrian grinned after him; he truly did have a soft spot for the grumpy man.

He sighed…well time to go back and face the music. He could not help but find it ironic that he would rather be freezing cold, discussing vampire treaties then inside dancing with his boyfriend at the moment.

Well, it was time to do something about that. As much as he loved the idiot, they needed to set a few things straight.


	17. The art of dancing and desire

** Chapter 16: The Art of Dancing and Desire  **

_You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.” ―_ [ _Julie de Lespinasse_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3276293.Julie_de_Lespinasse)

Hadrian took a deep breath, trying to steal himself for the unavoidable conversation he was going to have. Once he felt slightly more centered, he re-entered the lavishly decorated great hall. Professor McGonagall really did do a splendid job at decorating the place; it was hardly recognizable from the usual, everyday mess hall, what with the waterfall and bright flowers hanging everywhere.

He spotted Iztal standing on the other side of the room from where Iztal had last left him; he looked to be engaged in a rather serious debate with a senior Ravenclaw student, one whom Hadrian could not recall the name of.

‘Well, might as well and get this over with’ he thought as he wound his way across the crowded dance floor. He had initially tried to squirt the edges of it, but with the number of standing, gossiping students in the way, it really was just easier to cut across. He however, did not quite reach his intended goal.

“Hadran, can we speak?” he heard a heavily accented voice ask and felt someone grasp his elbow. Irritated Hadrian spun around to face the cause of tonight’s tensions.

“Viktor” He stated his voice hard, as he stared unapologetically at the Bulgarian seeker, ignoring the subtle flinch at his tone.

“Please?” Viktor asked not backing down, his eyes holding Hadrian’s in challenge.

“Fine, but make it quick” Hadrian relented, leading the older teen off the dance floor to a more secluded corner of the hall. Trying to push down the irritation he was feeling. Really the seeker had been relentless with his not so subtle comments all evening, it really was very annoying.

Hadrian turned to face Viktor and waited for him to speak, when the silence went from patient, to awkward and then some, he finally broke “Well, what is it you wish to discuss? I believe I have stated before that conversation should involve words” Hadrian stated, irritation creeping into his voice.

Hadrian was not sure if the smile he received for his statement was meant to be flirtatious or abashed. “vell I vant to know vhat is going on vith you and that other boy” Viktor stated looking quite serious.

Hadrian felt an incredulous look adorn his face, seriously? Was the seeker really that oblivious? “I would think that is rather obvious, Viktor”

“I still vant to hear it from you” Krum replied stubbornly.

Hadrian sighed starting to run a hand through his hair before remembering that all but the bangs were pulled back into a braid. “We are seeing each other, have been since the first task”

Viktor sighed looking disappointed, “It is very serious?”

Hadrian allowed his eyes to wander over to where Iztal was standing, a small smile flitted onto his face before he turned back to Viktor, “Yes I would like to think that it is…are you not here with Hermione, anyway….why do you care?” he asked with genuine curiosity. There was barely anything between the two of them; all they had shared was a quick groping session. Hadrian had been sure that the other boy viewed it as a bit of fun, definitely nothing serious enough for this display.

“No, ve are just friends…” Viktor replied sighing again, “very vell, I vill respect you and the other boys relationship” he continued before pausing a delvish smirk appearing on his face, “but if you change your mind, I vould not mind... vhat is the vord…ah yes, experimenting more”

Hadrian stared at him, relief and confusion warring for prominence. Krum smiled again and leaned closer to his ear, “you know vere to find me” before giving him a quick peck on his cheek and walking away.

‘What?’ was all that Hadrian could think, deciding he really did not understand Krum in the least and decided to push the whole conversation out of his head. He turned to resume his original task, only to see Iztal glaring at him from across the room.

‘Dammit’ Hadrian thought wearily, before marching resolutely over to the other teen. The argument that had previously only going to be a mild disagreement was promising to be much more of powder keg, after Krum’s last display of affection.

“Iztal we need to talk” Hadrian stated, trying not to wince at the similarity between this and Krum’s earlier request.

Iztal glared before turning and walking straight back out the side of the hall, into the quickly cooling spring air beyond. (Minerva had somehow convinced the castle to open up a double door on the side of the mess hall that spilt out into a rather stunning garden. The door and garden, both of which had been absent until now).

Oddly enough, Iztal led them to the spot where he and Snape had, had their conversation. “Well?” Iztal asked looking coolly at the raven haired teen before him.

“Enough! What exactly is your problem? I have said this before Iztal; I am not a bloody yo-yo. I am also not a bloody mind reader; I will not continue to trail after you and guess at whatever has you acting like a bloody prat. This is the last time I will say this Iztal, so make up your mind. Either tell me why I am suddenly not worthy of your attention or find someone else to toy with” Hadrian shouted (or as close to shouting as Hadrian ever got) at Iztal.

Iztal stood completely still as he listened to his lover’s rant, his face growing more and more angry, “I am not the only one playing games here, Hadrian!” he hissed, “I am not the one continuously flirting with another, or running off to have private ‘chats’ with them.”

Hadrian looked at him in disbelief, “At what point exactly was I ‘flirting’ with anyone, you prat?”

‘You did not seem all that unhappy when ‘Viktor’ was practically hanging off of you all night” Iztal replied spitting out Viktor’s name.

“Oh. For Merlin’s sake, Iztal! Your jealously is really starting to grate. I was NOT flirting with Viktor….” Hadrian denied, holding up his hand when he saw Iztal about to protest the fact, “in fact I was bloody uncomfortable all evening, a fact that you did not help by giving me the cold shoulder! And before you start again, the private ‘chat’ you saw was me telling Viktor that I thought things were serious between us. Was I wrong?” Hadrian asked staring resolutely at Iztal.

Iztal stared back stonily for a moment before sighing wearily his expression caving, “I’m sorry Hadrian. I know I’m still acting like a jealous ass; this…this is new for me. You know I don’t like people. I’m trying Hades…I can’t change overnight….” He paused before a small smirk flitted across his face, “we are serious?” he asked slyly.

Hadrian couldn’t stop the answering grin before replying coyly, “Am I mistaken to think so?”

Iztal took another step forward, backing Hadrian into the wooden wall of an archway. Hadrian felt his breath hitch as Iztal pressed up against him. He watched, unable to drag his eyes away from the other boy’s lips as said lips lowered pausing inches from his own. “No, you most definitely are not”

That was the last thing that he heard before he was swept away in a world of pleasure.


	18. The art of tasks and tarnished triumphs

** Chapter 17: The Art of tasks and tarnished Triumphs **

**_“_ ** _Forging future from the timeless stone Oh let me know how far I can go Answering the questions that no one ever asks Float through the sea of madness and face the everlasting task So lonely to wander, so sad to be alone In the mist of the unknown”-Amorphis, the way_   
  


Fleur took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. After the first task (much to her shame) Fleur, was forced to face that she had come into this competition a tad cocky. She had always been ‘that’ girl; the one that could float through life, hardly having to expend any effort and still get everything she wanted. She had entered the tournament with much of the same notions.

She would enter, she would smile, she might cast an advanced spell or two, she would bedazzle and she would win. There had never been any doubt. That was until she had to face that monstrosity of a dragon and following a humiliating last place finish in the first task, Fleur was forced to revaluate. She had stopped treating the tournament as a sure thing and decided to actually apply herself for the first time in her short life.

And she could not deny that the thought of achieving something that she had actually had to work for was a new, albeit liberating notion. She had even given up her game of flirting with the devastatingly handsome, if not rather young British champion. True, she had taken more pleasure in making the youngest champion jealous, but still she would not have said no to something more from Iztal, despite his age and rather cold demeanor. Fleur had always liked the dangerous type.

However, following the first task she had given up her games in order to concentrate on winning this damn tournament. She would prove that she was more than a pretty face. This is why she was desperately trying to steady her nerves as she waited for her turn to enter the forboding maze of twisted hedge in front of her. Given her current ranking, she and Hadrian would be allowed to enter at the same time. Iztal had already entered and was given a five minute head start; Viktor would be entering five minutes after all of them (well ten after Iztal).

They had all stood and listened to Mr. Bagman, that ridiculous Englishman who seemed to believe he was some sort of celebrity, prattle on about what was expected of them. It seems that the third task would consist of each of the champions making their way, alone through the dark, towering hedge maze in hopes of being the first to arrive at the Triwizard cup. The first one there was the winner, simple enough. Or not.

The stones they had retrieved for the second task would of course come into play. Each champion was placed at one of four separate entrances, depending on the stone they had chosen. In Fleur’s case she would be following paths that would have challenges that would test her intellectually.

Fleur had to admit that she was rather glad with her choice, she did not think she would have fared well with the strength challenge, she might have done alright had she drawn the stone to test her cunning…she was a rather crafty witch if she did say herself. But, she was very glad she had not chosen the one relating to loyalty or bravery. Neither of these traits suited her particularly well.

The whistle blew and Fleur ran into the maze, this was not the time to worry about being unladylike. Twenty minutes later, she had her first success; she had made it past the Sphinx with little effort. The riddle had been strait forward and the feline being had let her pass without fuss. Now however she found that she came to a complete dead end.

Irritated, she turned to retreat the way she had come and found that this was quite impossible. In the time that she had approached the dead end another hedge had arisen behind her. Trying her best not to panic, the French veela forced herself to take a calming breath and re-approach the wall of leaves.

Feeling rather foolish she spoke her question out loud, praying that this was indeed part of the task. “I wish to pass, letz me through.” At first nothing happened, Fleur was slowly receding into a panic when silver words appeared in a shimmered haze in front of her.

_If you wish to pass it may be within your grasp_

_Answer me this, to leave unremiss;_

_“The more places I be, the less you can see….what am I?”_

Fleur paused and pondered the question; she thought she knew the answer but it seemed like a rather odd one, considering who was essentially in charge of this whole affair. But there really was no other one she could deduce. Taking another deep breath, she steeled herself and spoke in a clear voice,

“You are darkness”

Nothing happened for an agonizingly long time, Fleur started to doubt her answer. It was the only thing that made sense but maybe she was mistaken? But no, it looked like she was correct after all. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as the hedges started to draw back. The passageway beyond was much like her answer, completely dark. Fleur made herself wait for an extra minute to be sure that the foliage had indeed stopped before she took a brave step forward.

When nothing untoward happened she took another… she had perhaps trusted too soon. She never even saw the flash of red light that flew at her from above.

Without a sound, she crumbled silently to the ground.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Viktor was more than a little disgruntled by the fact that he was last to enter the maze. True he had drawn the stone that was most suited to his strengths (he shuddered at the thought of having drawn the stone relating to cleverness), but he was still not pleased at being placed at a disadvantage, no matter how short it was.

Viktor was confident enough in his masculinity to admit that this maze creeped the hell out of him. The dark, shadowed depths of unknown were enough to scare even the worst of dark lords, Viktor would be glad to call anyone’s bluff who denied this fact.

He was quite happy with his progress so far, despite his late start. It had only been half an hour and already he had defeated a rather nasty smelling troll. He had managed to cast a strong enough ‘confundus’ charm and cause the troll to trip and knock itself out. Of course he had ended up getting tossed around a bit first but all in all he called it a solid win.

He now drew up to a massive wall of boulders that blocked his path; it looked as though to prove his strength he would have to clear the path. A rather simple task in all honesty.

Viktor tried to cast a ‘bombarda’ curse but it simply bounced off. Curse after curse he sent and nothing. Frustration growing quickly, Viktor paused to look around.

Crap. He had missed something. On the ground in front of the boulders sat a bottle containing a deep purple liquid.

Viktor approached it carefully, he could not help but feel as if something was off with this whole situation, but really what other choice did he have. He picked up the vial and paused, there was a scroll attached, the writing a spidery green.

_‘In order to prove your strength, both physical and inner…Drink the contents of the vial provided. It will remove your magical strength temporarily and you will then have to move the stones using your physical strength and determination alone. Once you have passed the wall the effects of the potion will be cancelled out’_

Krum studied the purple liquid will no small amount of trepidation, he could drink the contents and get started or he could backtrack and try and find another way. If his calculations were correct this was the quickest way through, and he was rather used to physical training what with his quiditch schedule.

Shaking away the last of his doubts, he uncorked the vial and downed the contents. The taste was a rather nice surprise; it was sweet, reminding him of a honey. It only took a few seconds before he felt the potion starting to take effect.

There was something wrong though. He knew that he would feel different without his magic to rely on but this was something more. This was not right.

As Krum felt his muscles fill with an overwhelming weariness he could not help but think ‘Something was definitely not right.’

This was the last thought he had before darkness overwhelmed him and he fell unconscious to the ground.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Hadrian had been wandering through the maze for the last 25 minutes. He had yet to come across anything. No creatures, no evil mists, no puzzles nothing. Nothing but darkness and shadows. Hadrian suppose that this in itself might have been disconcerting to others…but not him.

In all honesty, Hadrian didn’t mind the darkness or oppressive silence. It was almost comforting, like a warm blanket to sooth the frayed nerves from the day. Though, Hadrian knew he was unusual in this. Most people did not like the dark, even if they pretended they did, most feared what might be hidden in the unknown. But Hadrian knew better. True threats were usually right in front of you the entire time. They weren’t the things that hid in the shadows they were the things that strolled in the light.

Still, it would have been nice to know if he was going in the right direction or not. He was just about to turn around and try to trace his way back to where pathway last split, when he spotted movement ahead. There were two figures standing in front of him. He could not quite make out what they were.

Hadrian drew closer slowly, taking care to be as silent as possible. Whatever it was did not appear to be aware of him yet, he’d rather it stay that way. When he got close enough to see it, he froze. This was not what he had expected.

Suddenly the previously silent maze was not so comforting. The figures turned out to be Hermione and Draco. Both were bound tight with some sort of harsh mettle twine. Both looked like there was barely any life left in them. A third, oh so familiar figure stood watching them dispassionately.

 

Hadrian found it hard to breath. He had never told anyone about this….this thought, these fears. They were not prominent in his mind, but they were there. They were there when he had come across Iztal punishing that boy in Hadrian’s first year. They were there every time Iztal turned into the cold, uncaring Slytherin prince, they were there as much as he wished they were not.

A small whimper escaped from his throat…this-this, could not be happening. This was not real, somewhere deep down he knew that but oh…not right now, right now he was face to face with his worst fear.

It was cruel when his biggest hope and worst fear where the same coin. Just different faces and he wasn’t sure how to prevent the one face from surfacing.

“Well, well….hello Hadrian, I must say you took your time getting here. I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from you” the cruelly sweet, mocking tone Iztal used to gut his enemies with rang out.

“T-this, this isn’t real, you’re not really him…” Hadrian managed to choke out.

“Oh how sad….I’m sorry to say **_Hades_** this is real…what? You actually thought that I wanted to be with you? You thought that I wanted you?” Iztal taunted disbelief on his face.

Hadrian couldn’t help it; he felt a piercing pain slice through him. His brain was not focusing on the rational at the moment, it was too overwhelmed in hearing these words out loud, his nickname that he so adored thrown away like nothing. He knew Iztal could not truly want him, but it hadn’t stopped him from hoping.

He mentally shook off the despair threatening to overwhelm him, “W-what did you do to them?” he gestured to the still bodies of his friends…no followers.

“They served their use, I spoke to them and you fell for my ‘effort’, just as pathetic as I predicted. I no longer need you to believe…so I no longer need them. Don’t despair, you still have use…oh so many powerful people you seem to have pissed off Hades. I wager I will be able to make a pretty profit to the highest bidder” Iztal shrugged uncaringly.

“Are they still alive?” Hadrian asked though dreading the answer, all while purposefully ignoring the rest of Iztal’s statement.

“For now” Iztal answered his smile full of malicious intent.

“Let them leave, oblivate them, if they are not important then you do not need to kill them. I’m here. Let them go” Hadrian bargained, not even sure what was compelling him to do so. He should have been throwing curses or running, not playing hero.

“How sweet, are you sure you were not meant to be a Gryffindor, my little snake? Why should you care they are nothing, their disposable…” He trailed off but the ‘like you’ was implied.

“They’re not” Hadrian disagreed, and somehow he registered the fact that he was no longer viewing them as simple followers, but as friends. ‘How strange’ he thought bemusedly.

Iztal stared at him coldly before letting out a chuckle and raising his wand, “well as fun as this has been…”

The fact that, that last sentence was what woke Hadrian out of his haze was rather ironic. The Iztal he knew would never coincide. Once he decided to destroy you, he would destroy everything about you, hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Everything. It was one of the reasons he was so feared. This was not Iztal.

“No” Hadrian replied softly, raising his own wand, “Riddikulus”

The whole image in front of Hadrian wavered and then disappeared in to nothingness. Hadrian sagged with relief, he should have known. His tests were based on loyalty and bravery. Of course they would use a boggart.

He knew he still had this fear in him. But he also knew that he was stronger than that fear. He would not let it ruin the one thing that brought him happiness, even if it brought him frustration, anger and hurt just as often. It was worth it.

Hadrian cast a quick tempus and cursed it had taken him twenty minutes to deal with a simple boggart. He rushed forward, running for all he was worth and then all too soon there it was.

He did not want to question why he had only had one obstacle, he didn’t care. There it was, the cup it was in front of him shining in all of its glory. It was breathtaking.

A movement to his left made him spin. There was Iztal. He was nowhere near the same as the version Hadrian had just encountered. He stood there, staring at Hadrian, flushed, his eyes bright with excitement, for once a genuine smile on his face.

“Hades” he said, stopping feet from the cup.

“Iztal” Hadrian replied also stopping his approach.

“Are you hurt? Did you have any trouble?” Iztal asked, if you were not listening closely you would have likely missed the concern hidden in his tone.

“I’m fine” Hadrian replied, surprised to find that he meant it.

Iztal turned to look at the cup again, before looking back at Hadrian once more, “Together?” He asked his tone uncertain.

Hadrian felt surprise and shock. Iztal was willing to concede victory to share it? He felt a smile spreading across his face, a strange warmth in his stomach. This was his Iztal, the one that was cold, cruel but could also be kind. Perhaps others might not understand, but Hadrian didn’t care. Iztal was his. He was Iztal’s.

“Together” Hadrian replied, stepping forward and grasping Iztal’s hand. If Iztal was surprised by this uncharacteristic display of affection he did not say so. Together they approached the cup.

Together they placed a hand on the cup. And together they felt the tell tale tug of a port key.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Iztal felt the yank at his navel and the dizzying sense of his feet being lifted off the ground. He did not know if he should feel reassured or terrified of the fact that Hadrian was right there next to him. As much as he was happy for the company, he was terrified by the thought of something happening to the smaller boy.

He felt the hard jolt of ground, as his legs collided it. Followed by his legs giving way and the hard connection between knees and dirt. He cringed at the sharp jolts of pain that shot up. Quickly pushing the pain away, he lifted his head to see where they were.

They most definitely were not at Hogwarts anymore. No, in fact they were in what looked to be a rundown, isolated cemetery. Iztal was not one who often felt fear, but he would admit at that moment he was filled with it.

He was not sure if he could possible feel more..something, that in the next seconds was proven absolutely false.

His gaze fell upon two figures, one tall skeletal, and with the most terrifying blood red eyes he had ever witnessed, the second brought a moment of shock to Iztal, it was Professor Quirrel.

All this shock and confusion however was replaced by horror when he heard the words the skeletal man spoke. The words he spoke while looking coldly at Hadrian’s still prone figure.

“Kill the spare”


	19. The art of confrontation

** Chapter 18: The Art of Confrontation  **

_Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.” ―_ [ _Herbert Hoover_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/209936.Herbert_Hoover)

Time slowed, or perhaps stopped. Honestly Iztal could not be sure, all he knew is that it had to stop, to rewind, anything to prevent this. He heard the words, the words spoken in a tone so cold that he thought that perhaps this was what death sounded like.

He watched with detached horror as the red eyed man lifted the innocuous looking stick and pointed it at Hadrian. Pointed it at the one person Iztal cared about as much as himself, perhaps more than himself. And suddenly he knew what he needed to do. It really wasn’t even much of a question.

Without thinking it through, without making plans and then studying them, without being sure that he would benefit from the current line of action he was taking, he acted. Iztal threw himself in front of his only friend, his lover.

“No” He stated his voice rivaling the ice of his adversaries.

Red eyes widened in disbelief, confusion flitting through them before quickly filling with rage, “No?” the words were spoken in a sibilant hiss.

Iztal squared his shoulders, not really sure where his actions and motivations were coming from, and not really caring. “No, I will not allow you to hurt him.”

Had he turned around, just from sensing Hadrian freeze behind him, he was sure that a look of shock and confusion would be present.

“You would risk your own life to save his?” The red eyed man asked the question heavy with curiosity.

“Iztal move” Hadrian hissed at him trying to shove him aside.

“Yes” Iztal answered, completely ignoring Hadrian’s protests, “Yes I would”

The man studied him for a long moment before a slightly insane sounding laugh echoed the grave yard. Iztal tensed unsure of what this meant, before the man lowered his wand and took a step back. He glared at his companion and only looked back at them once Quirrel had also lowered his wand and defensive stance.

Iztal’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“That child is a very long story….” The man answered once again studying the boy in front of him with offputting intensity. “The important answer to your question is that most know me as Lord Voldmort…”

Iztal heard a startled intake of breath from behind him, and registered that Hadrian knew as he did, that this was likely not going to end well.

“And you are my son” Voldmort finished with a dramatic flair. It was safe to say the man did love his theatrics.

Iztal stood gaping at him, his mind churning this information over at a speed not normal for most, “Explain” he demanded his tone frigid giving none of his inner turmoil away. Feelings of shock, hurt, anger, and confusion churned dangerously.

Voldmort nodded his head in concurrence before beginning his face full of an emotion rarely seen, regret. “During my first rise I made a foolish mistake….I experimented with magics that I should not have…”

“What magic?” Hadrian burst forth, not even bothering to hide the curiosity that he was feeling.

Voldmort glared at him, looking very much as if he regretted Iztal’s interference with his previous Aveda Kedavra, but turned to Iztal to continue anyway, “That is of little importance, what matters is that these magics affected my sanity, causing me too lose much of my rational thought process and become obsessed with bloodshed….” Voldmort paused and it looked like he shuddered, although neither boy could be sure.

“It is likely I would have continued along this path of insanity until there was nothing left of myself or this world, however it seems that Fate intervened. I was given a gift…” Voldmort stopped again to look at Iztal with an almost reverent gaze, “…an heir, a son.”

“Yes, you have done an astounding job of raising him” Iztal stated sarcastically.

Voldmort closed his eyes in an effort to regain a semblance of patience, it was a rather hard feat after years of just crucoing anything that annoyed you, “And for that I apologize. I was tricked. I was fed a false prophecy by the one man I hated most, even then I laid aside my rash impulse to go and get rid of the threat by violence. Instead I tried to negotiate with a few of his pawns. It was never meant to be however. Dumbledore was waiting, there was firing of spells and accidental deaths, and he cast the death curse directly at me. It tore my soul from my body and rebounded hitting that Potter child. Dumbledore then set in action a set of lies which grossly strew the truth. I spent the next decade as a bodiless vesper, unable to do anything but search for some way to regain what I lost”

Iztal’s stone expression began to waver just slightly, taking this as encouragement Voldmort continued his tale, “I finally managed to possess dear Quirrel, here. And in a plan to capture a ancient artifact that would allow me to regain my body, I stumbled upon you, my son. I knew then that I needed to regain strength and power before approaching you. If I had earlier you would only have served as a pawn for the headmaster, you would not have been safe. Your safety is the most important thing in the world to me”

“Well he speaks the truth about Dumbledore at the very least” Hadrian muttered from behind Iztal.

Iztal’s mind was still spinning, desperate to make sense of what he was hearing. He had parents…or at least a parent. He had a father, a father that actually wanted him. In truth he did not know what to feel about this. In his earlier years he would have jumped at the chance at having a family, a father, now though….he had been on his own so long. He was not sure he wanted to give up this freedom. He had to say something though. Everyone was waiting on him….

Before he could open his mouth to speak however, the boys were faced with the second shock that night. A shimmering in the air a few feet from the group drew the eyes of all involved. And slowly a form all too familiar to them, but especially to Voldmort appeared.

“Why Tom, that was a rather touching speech. It is too bad I cannot believe a word of it” Albus Dumbledore stated, his grandfatherly face filled with mocking sorrow. In reality, the old wizard’s prays had been answered. Here was an opportunity to get rid of all of his problems at once. Then he could concoct whatever story he wished.

Voldmort’s face contorted with rage, his eyes solely focusing on his enemy, “Albus, I don’t recall inviting you”

“I am terribly hurt by that, I know we had our differences. I had hopes we could set them aside and come to a mutually beneficial agreement” Dumbledore replied his stance belaying his words.

“If you know me as well as you have claimed all these years, you would know that that is quite impossible” Voldmort hissed back, also taking a dueling stance.

“I was afraid you were going to say that….” Albus looked forlorn, though inside he was cackling. He could finally kill off his most dangerous adversary; of course he would have to get rid of the Voldmort’s son as well. It wouldn’t do to have his offspring spreading such tainted genes. Then he suppose he would also have to get rid of Hadrian and Quirrel, it wouldn’t serve to have witnesses…and well memory charms could be broken.

Seconds after this statement a volley of curses were being thrown, flashed of red, green and white shot through the air. The ground shook, headstones shattered from curses that missed their marks. One such curse flew dangerously close to the two boys, who were frozen in shock.

Voldmort could not stop himself from glancing over with worry. He could not lose his son, not now that he had finally met him. This was all the distraction Dumbledore needed to perfect his plan. He had never thought Tom was capable of worrying for another, but it seems he was mistaken. Well even a man as great as he was bound to make a small mistake every now and then. He changed his target, flinging a curse in Iztal’s direction.

Disappointingly, it bounced off as hastily erected shield. Apparently, Hadrian hadn’t been completely lost to his shock after all. Still these were school boy and no matter how clever or magically advanced they were, they could not stop curses with the experience and force that Albus was capable of. Wanting to bring things to a quick finish Albus flung the infamous death curse. It flew in a straight line at Iztal, there was no escaping it, he would not be able to move out of the way in time unless he wanted it to hit his companion.

Then happened something that even shocked Albus. Voldmort threw his body in front of his sons. “I’m sorr…” was all he got out before the green curse absorbed into his chest. Again, it was like time stood still. The green light hit and spread, becoming so intense that it was blinding. And then it was gone. Leaving nothing but ash in its wake. There was nothing, no left over soul, no body. Just ash.

A strangled sound ripped from Iztal’s throat as he fell to his knees in horror. He had just met him. He might not have been certain he wanted a father figure in his life but he had wanted the option. And now he was gone….again.

There could be no other word then glee to describe Dumbledore’s expression. This look of insane accomplishment did not leave as he turned to face the two children in front of him.

“I am sorry my boys. But this is for the best” He stated before sending the same curse that had brought forth destruction at Hadrian. It might have been shock that froze Hadrian to the spot, rather than having him move out of the way. In the end it did not matter what it was or wasn’t, what mattered is that it struck him.

In an odd sense of irony, it struck him directly on the remnants of his faded curse scar. This time the green light did not absorb into its victim, instead it struck and then rebounded flying at impossibly fast speed back at its castor.

It struck Albus directly in the middle of that ancient beard, and disappeared before the wizard’s body had even fallen to the ground. The once twinkling eyes were now open and dull.

Seconds after the old man’s body fell, Iztal tore his gaze from the horrifying get vindicating sight to look at his lover.

“Hadrian!” rang out even as the raven haired boy slipped into blackness.


	20. The art of revelations

** Chapter 19: The Art of Revelations  **

_“Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third.” ―_ [ _Shannon L. Alder_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1391130.Shannon_L_Alder)

A world of white greeted Hadrian when he opened his eyes. He let them close again as he found his bearings. Memories flooded back to him as he lay still, unmoving. This stillness was partially because he feared what he would find when he opened them again. He couldn’t place where exactly he was, he knew he was no longer in the graveyard, and it did not feel like Hogwarts; the silence was too all encompassing for that.

He slowly opened his eyes again. Yup, still white. Carefully sitting up he noted that he was not nearly sore enough for what had happened since the whistle of the third task had sounded.

“Ah you are finally awake” a female voice stated from behind him.

Hadrian turned his neck sharply to see you was speaking, he was met with the sight of a attractive blond woman. She appeared to be in her late thirties and was wearing a light white dress, which draped across her as she sat casually on comfortable looking couch. The couch was the only furniture he could make out.

“ Who are you? And where am I?” He asked warily, turning the rest of his body so that he didn’t have to crink his neck.

“That is the question is it not?” the woman answered airily, “Come sit, you’ll be more comfortable”

Hadrian slowly rose and made his way cautiously over to where the woman was sitting, once seated he stared at her determinedly, waiting for an answer to his question.

“Oh very well…I have many names, but the one that would make most sense to you young one is Magic” she answered, grinning widely at the look of disbelief on Hadrian’s face.

“How do I know that you are not lying?” Hadrian asked suspiciously once he had collected himself and stopped gaping at her.

“You don’t” Magic answered, but cut him off before he could start conversing, “But really what reason would I have to lie to you? And how else can you explain getting here?”

Hadrian didn’t answer instead stared at her with some resignation.

“May I continue?” Magic asked still grinning.

Hadrian nodded.

“Good, so as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I am Magic. I created it and am it in all ways. And we are in what I would guess is your mindspace….it’s rather white if I do say so” Magic stated looking bemusedly around her.

“And why am I here with you?” Hadrian asked, seemingly accepting her statement for who she was. He supposed he could be hallucinating, last he remembered was being hit with a rather nasty curse….a green curse in fact, “Wait am I dead?” he asked worriedly.

“No you are not dead, merely unconscious for the time being, I decided to take this opportunity to have a long overdue conversation with you” Magic answered reassuringly. Once the tension had left Hadrian’s frame she continued.

“You are here because I have chosen you to be. You can think of yourself as something like my heir” Magic stated.

“What your heir? You want me to be your heir?” Hadrian asked again skeptically his eye brow rose.

“Yes, yes….you see in the last few decades you magic wielders have made a right mess of things. Light vs. Dark, death and destruction. Favoring one over the other, persecution….you get my drift. This was not how it was meant to be. Magic is magic….not to toot my own horn but it is special, it is meant to worshipped and grown, not banned or vilified. So, you see I need someone who sees magic as I do, someone who is not prejudiced against it. And that would be you, Hadrian…or should I say…” Magic trailed off.

Hadrian who had been listening intently to her explanation, caught her hesitance at the last sentence, “say what?” he asked.

“Harry Potter” Magic answered.

“What!?!?!?” Hadrian shouted, his face shocked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, you were not born Hadrian Jameson dear…did you never wonder where you came from or how you ended up in that horrible orphanage?” Magic asked regarding him solemnly.

Hadrian did not answer. Of course he had wondered, he had pondered late at night lying in the relative safety of his mungy bed. But that had been years ago, he had long since given up thinking, wishing or even caring about it.

“But I-I can’t be…”He trailed off hoping against all hope that this was a joke. Because if it wasn’t, well if it wasn’t he was technically responsible for making Iztal an orphan as well.

“It’s the truth my dear child. You were always meant for greatness, even if it wasn’t quite in the manner that that barmy old coot thought… you have a choice to make. You can go back and run away from it or you can go back and do what you always planned on anyway. Fix the broken system, protect and save magic. Because if things do not change, then there will be nothing left to fix” Magic stated.

Hadrian rubbed his hands over his face, hit for the first time on what a huge task it was that he was trying to accomplish. “Think about it” Magic urged.

Hadrian nodded acknowledging he would. “Good, but while you are here a certain someone would like a word” Magic stated, glancing to the left.

Hadrian followed her gaze and was shocked to see a much younger and better rested Albus Dumbledore. He stared at him his expression full of mistrust. “And what pray tell do you want from me?”

“Nothing my dear boy….” Albus answered, suddenly looking decidedly uncomfortable, “…I wanted to thank you, and well apologize I suppose”

“You want to thank me….for killing you?” Hadrian asked his eyebrows now high behind his bangs.

“Yes, I had not realized just how far I had sunk from my original goals and beliefs. If you had not stopped me there is no saying how far I would have gone. So thank you for stopping me….” Albus answered his tone full of sincerity; Thank you for saving me” the last was spoken so softly that Hadrian almost missed it.

There was a long silence, before Hadrian finally answered shifting awkwardly as if he was not sure what to do with this thanks, “you’re welcome”

The silence once again stretched uncomfortably, before Albus’s morose expression broke and the damn twinkle was back, “So, it is true then? You are Harry Potter?”

Hadrian nodded reluctantly; he really did not know how to feel about this revelation. While true, it did mean that his parents had probably loved him and did not abandon him as he had once thought, he was not sure he wanted to be the savior, the boy-who-lived and all that nonsense… that and Iztal.

“Well the irony. I looked everywhere but right under my nose” Albus said shaking his head at his own stupidity, before turning back to Magic. “I do have another question….is Voldemort truly dead?”

“Yes” Magic answered watching her guest’s interactions closely.

“But how? Everyone thought he had died when I was a baby and he did not….” Hadrian asked curiously, anything to do with magic absolutely fascinated him.

‘This is true, however this time he is truly dead. You see Voldemort played with things he should not have. He split his soul and used those pieces to anchor himself to the earth” Magic answered.

“So shouldn’t he still be anchored?” Hadrian asked confused.

“If he had been killed against his will yes” Magic supplied and continued before either of the men in front of her could interrupt, “yes, he did not want to die, but he willingly sacrificed his life for that of his son’s. Because he did this willingly it automatically destroyed all of his soul, not just the one present in the graveyard”

Hadrian nodded with understanding, before asking another question, “How is it that I did not die all those years ago?”

“Simple. I did not wish it. I was already fed up with how things were going and given the actions and manipulations of both your adversaries” she paused to glare at Albus who had the good grace to look sheepish, “you were the one that made most sense…well okay, so I really just wanted to give them the finger” Magic amended thoughtfully.

Hadrian rubbed his face again wearily, it was a lot of information to take in, “and if I wish to let Harry Potter remain dead? To stay as Hadrian Jameson?”

Magic studied him for a moment and nodded apparently finding whatever it was that she was looking for, “That is your choice, if this is what you wish I will permanently remove your scar. I believe you can go as far as Hadrian as you could as Harry”

Hadrian thought for a moment more before coming to a decision, “That is what I wish”.

Magic waved her and Hadrian felt a slight tingle on his forehead.

“I believe it is time you return, I wish you luck” Magic said glancing at the surprisingly muggle wrist watch on are arm.

“As do I, my boy. I have no doubt your parents would be proud of you” Albus stated.

Hadrian blinked rapidly at his suddenly watering eyes, ‘damn dust particles’ he thought to himself also ignoring the slight tightness in his throat.

“Good bye” He stated, suddenly feeling a great heaviness to his eyes….just before he slipped back into darkness he whispered, “and thank you.”


	21. Epilogue: the art of starting anew

** Epilogue: The Art of starting anew **

_“This is not the end, this is not even the beginning of the end, this is just perhaps the end of the beginning.” ―_ [ _Winston Churchill_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14033.Winston_Churchill)

Iztal stumbled slightly as he made his way to the back of the room. So, maybe he had drunk a little more than he had thought. He figured that he could easily justify this oversight however…after all they were celebrating.

“Congratulations Minster! I knew that you would win, Dunstan is an idiot…no one in their right mind would chose him over you” Percy complimented.

Iztal did not even try to contain his eye roll at the obvious flattery; Percy had always been an ambitious one. He would keep the red head around however ambition is a great motivator, and Iztal would be damned if his office was run like the last. “Thank you Mr. Weasley, I am honored to have the people’s trust.” There that sounded smarmy enough to shake him off. Iztal had gotten better over the years in faking both emotions and interest in other people.

“Yes it is a great privilege, I do hope that you will be looking into the safety and distribution of banned goods, the last head of that office was just atrocious, Why even I…” Percy began his unfortunately familiar rant on misappropriated resources etc. before Iztal interrupted before he could really get into it.

“Of course, I was wondering if you have seen Mr. Jameson around?” Iztal interrupted while scanning the packed crowd. His campaign staff really had done a smashing job of organizing the after party. They of course knew that he was a sure thing, even if no one said it to avoid jinxing their luck. Percy was correct on one thing Dunstan Wier was a moron.

It had taken Hadrian and Iztal nine years from the end of their fourth year to finally build up enough support and momentum to make an attempt for the minster’s position. They had talked about it and decided that Iztal was the best suited to the minster’s position.

Because of that conversation Hadrian had years ago in his mindspace, it was decided that they would create a new position within the Minstery, one that overlooked and guided the minster in critical decisions related to the education, allocation and monitoring of magic. Hadrian accepted the position of Magic’s Guardian ten minutes after Iztal had found out the results of the ballot.

It seemed like only yesterday that Iztal had thought he was going to lose Hadrian forever. It had been the most terrifying experience of his young life. He could not name the feeling he had when Hadrian had finally opened his eyes after a week in a coma, though some might call it love.

When Hadrian had finally woken up, their lives had been chaos. Reporters, Aurors, teachers, the minster, classmates…all clamoring for a piece of them. For a story, an explanation of what had happened. They had left out a lot of it and stuck strictly to the basics. There was a fight, curses were thrown, Voldemort was killed by Dumbledore who was hit by his own rebounded curse. They stated that Hadrian had been hit by one of the curses missing their marks. Most seemed to accept their story as accurate, it helped that Quirrel gave a similar story, only adding that he was coerced into attending with Voldemort. Not that it did much in lowering his prison time.

Two weeks after Hadrian had awakened and things had started to calm down he had pulled Iztal aside. It was then that he revealed the rest of what magic had told him, including who he had once been. To say that Iztal had taken it badly would be an understatement. He had been furious. Of course after being given a chance to cool down and actually think things through he had once again found himself apologizing for being a jackass. Something that seemed to occur rather frequently.

He had agreed with Hadrian’s decision to leave this information alone and continue on as Hadrian Jameson. From that point on they had worked tirelessly bringing the light and dark sides to a more neutral position. It had started slow, but now they were finally starting to see some results of their hard work.

“I think he is over talking to your new Dark magic representative” Percy stated, pointing over to the far corner.

Iztal strained his neck and saw that Percy was correct again, Hadrian was indeed engaged in conversation with Draco over in the corner. From the looks of things he had stepped in to break up a brewing fight between their Light magic representative, Hermione and the temperamental blond.

Iztal braced himself and shoved his annoyance down again, after all these years those two still could not agree on pretty much anything.

Weaving his way through the crowd he stepped up behind Hadrian and wrapped his arms around his waist. Hadrian leaned back into the embrace and turned to smile at him, “Hello love, having fun yet?” he has in a teasing voice.

Iztal mock glared at his partner, “Oh yes, the company is absolutely scintillating. I am not sure if I will be able to tear myself away” he answered sarcastically.

He was rewarded with a chuckle. “Well as much as I would love to stay and watch the love and tenderness between you two, I think I will go and congratulate my godfather” Draco interrupted his voice full of sarcasm. Hadrian had told Iztal that his friends did not understand their relationship in the least. They were not the hold hands, send each other sappy cards types…no they were more the scream, yell and have great makeup sex type.

“Yes, send him my congratulations as well, I think him and Lupin will do a great job as the heads of magical creature cooperation” Hadrian answered.

“Will do” Draco stated before departing.

Iztal didn’t bother to say anything, even after all these years he could only manage to be barely civil to Hadrian’s friends.

“Think we can sneak out yet?” Hadrian asked looking longingly at the door.

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate, I am the new minster after all” Iztal replied in a lazy voice.

“Please….pretty please” Hadrian pleaded before getting a sly smile on his face; “I will make it worth your while” he trailed off.

“I really hate you sometimes” Iztal stated.

“I know, I love you too” Hadrian replied as he pulled him towards the exit.

Iztal hid a small smile as he followed “I love you too” was said so quietly he was sure Hadrian had missed it.

Judging from the smile that blossomed on Hadrian’s face he was once again mistaken. And for once he really did not mind.

                                THE END


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